THE  FULFILLING 
OF  THE  LAW 


0E  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


WORKS  BY 

DR.  HALPHIDE. 

MIND  AND  BODY. 

Hypnotism  and  Suggestion  Applied  in 

Therapeutics  and  Education. 
I2mo.,  Silk  Cloth,  Gilt  Edge,  231  pages,    -     -     $1.00 

THE  PSYCHIC  AND  PSYCHISM. 

A  Study  of  the  Inner  Life  of  Man. 

I2mo.,  Silk  Cloth,  Gilt  Edge,  228  pages,   -      -     $1.00 

THE  FULFILLING  OF  THE  LAW. 

A  Story. 
I2mo.,   Silk  Cloth,   281  pages,        -       -       -       $1.00 

A  VIRGIN  MOTHER. 

A  Story  (in  preparation.) 


For  sale  by  Booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price 
by  THE  AUTHOR,  Bear  Lake,  Penna. 


THE  FULFILLING 
OF  THE  LAW 

BY 

ALVIN   CAVALA   HALPHIDE 

Author  of  "Mind  and  Body,"    "The  Psychic  and  Piychism" 
Etc.,  Etc. 


'LOVE  IS  THE  ihJLFILLING  OF  THE  LAW." — Paul. 


FIRST  EDITION 


CHICAGO 

M.  A.   DONOHUE  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT    1907 
BY 

A.  C.  HALPHIDE 


A  NOTE 

To  The  Reader: — 

My  story  is  ended,  the  last  letter  is  finished, 
and  having  gathered  the  letters  and  verses  to- 
gether into  a  package  I  am  sending  them  to 
you,  believing  that  you  will  know  that  they 
were  really  intended  for  you  although  addressed 
to  and  signed  by  fictitious  names.  When  you 
read  them  all,  one  after  one,  I  think  that  you 
will  understand  without  any  extended  expla- 
nation why  they  were  written  and  sent  to  you. 
In  any  case,  let  the  story  find  a  place  in  your 
heart,  as  a  memory,  to  be  recalled  again  and 
again  as  often  as  it  may  serve  to  entertain 
or  help  you.  I  have  attempted  to  portray  the 
evolution  of  the  tender  passion  in  the  life  of  a 
person  of  above  average  intelligence.  "Love  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law,"  not  only  the  religious 
law,  but  the  law  of  life  as  well,  and  the  fulfilling 
is  in  the  nature  of  an  evolution.  The  letters 
and  verses  are  such  as  would  naturally  come 
from  such  a  source,  and  are  offered  for  what 
they  are  worth. 

A.  C.  HALPHIDB. 
Bear  Lake,  Penna., 
April  15,  1907. 


2130562 


A  List  of  the  Poems. 


An  Acrostic,          -  -           Page    58 

One  Summer,  ««     1 1 1 

This  Summer,  -            ««      115 

A  Previous  Friendship,  "     125 

Every  Night,  "      135 

My  Dreaming  Time,  "     155 

To  My  Valentine,  -            ««      175 

To  My  Ideal,     -  "179 

Love's  Query,  «      246 

I  Have,  Have  You?   -  "252 

The  Bride  Groom's  Toast,  "     256 


CONTENTS: 


PART  I. 

THE  PRELUDE. 

THE  FINDING  OF  A  FRIEND 15 

PART  II. 

THE    INTERLUDE. 

LETTERS  WRITTEN  TO  A  FRIEND  ...  83 
PART  III. 

THE    POSTLUDE. 

A  FRIEND  LOST  AND  A  LOVER  FOUND  195 


Dreaming  CCime* 


Dr.  A.  C  HALPHTOE. 
Moderate. 


"     j, 


totra.< 


v 


17J-   R^z-f^rU.       Jj 


MM 


i  r 


m 


X  (fmpo. 


^ 


(See  words  to  above  music  pp.  13,81,  and  193.) 


PART  I. 


The  Prelude. 

My  dreaming  time  is  any  time 

When  I  may  dream  of  you ; 
Some  days  I  dream,  some  nights  I  dream, 

And  would  my  dreams  were  true; 
I  see  you  stand  with  hat  in  hand, 

Returning  from  our  stroll ; 
Your  face  so  fair  and  eyes  so  rare 

Make  havoc  in  my  soul. 

High  on  the  hill,  the  wooded  hill, 

Where  we  said  our  last  farewell. 
As  friends  oft  do  in  words  so  few, 

Words  feelings  cannot  tell; 
So  my  dreaming  time  is  any  time 

When  I  may  dream  of  you; 
Some  nights  I  dream,  some  days  I  dream, 

And  would  my  dreams  were  true,. 

See  Musical  Score,  (pages  n  and  12) 


A  FINDING  OF  A  FRIEND 


i. 


OMAHA,  NEB.,  JULY  3,  19 — . 
Leola,  Dear  Friend : — 

I  left  town  last  night  without  a  good  bye  to 
you,  or  receiving  your  God  speed,  but  you  may 
be  sure  that  I  did  so  unwillingly.  Indeed  I 
called  twice  at  your  house  during  the  afternoon, 
but  you  were  out  both  times.  I  am  revisiting 
the  scenes  of  my  single  romance,  which  I  prom- 
ised to  relate  to  you  some  day.  The  time  has 
come  when  it  is  most  convenient  to  fulfill  that 
promise,  for  I  shall  find  time  in  the  intervals 
between  my  business  engagements  to  visit  the 
places  hallowed  by  old  associations  and  they 
will  help  me  to  recall  and  record  the  events  of 
that  happy  experience  in  their  proper  setting. 
As  I  live  those  beautiful  summer  days  over 
again  in  memory,  doubtless  some  sparks  of  that 
ancient  flame  will  be  rekindled  in  my  heart,  but 
they  will  only  be  the  expiring  embers  of  a 
dying  sentiment.  However,  you  must  read  the 
facts  and  judge  them  for  yourself. 

I  am  obliged  to  stay  here  for  two  or  three 
weeks  and  shall  write  as  often  and  as  much  as 


l6  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

opportunity  will  permit,  so  if  my  letters  are  few 
and  short,  you  may  be  assured  that  my  thoughts 
of  you  are  many  and  long.  I  am  anxious  for  you 
to  know  the  story  in  its  simplicity  and  entirety, 
so  shall  devote  my  letters  wholly  to  that  and 
you  may  preserve  them  if  you  will.  Anything 
else  that  I  may  wish  to  say  will  be  written  on 
separate  pages. 

The  plan  of  my  story  will  be  very  simple, 
including  three  parts,  as  follows:  Part  first 
will  be  a  prelude  dealing  with  the  beginnings 
of  our  friendship;  part  second  will  be  an  inter- 
lude consisting  of  the  package  of  letters  written 
during  the  friendship;  and  part  third  will  be 
a  postlude  relating  the  conclusion  of  the  friend- 
ship and  the  end  of  the  story.  This  arrange- 
ment, although  it  is  somewhat  fanciful,  will 
prove  helpful;  helpful  to  me  as  I  write,  and 
helpful  to  you,  dear  friend,  as  you  read.  I  want 
you  to  feel  that  I  am  telling  a  real  story,  even 
if  it  is  not  very  romantic — some  plan  was  neces- 
sary to  that  end. 

Your  friendship  and  sympathy  are  very  dear 
to  me  and  I  hope  that  they  may  long  continue  to 
prove  mutually  helpful  to  us.  I  hardly  realized 
how  much  I  have  depended  upon  your  advice  and 
counsel  until  I  came  away,  and  now  I  am  count- 
ing the  days  before  I  can  come  back  to  you.  I 
am  very  glad  to  be,  Your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


THE    FINDING   OF    A   FRIEND.  17 

II. 

OMAHA,  NEB.,  JULY  6,  19 — . 
Dear  Friend  Leola: — 

The  story  that  I  am  about  to  tell  will  appear 
poor,  even  too  commonplace,  when  compared 
with  the  highly  colored,  sensational  romances  so 
common  now-a-days,  but  I  shall  relate  it  in  a 
simple,  straightforward  manner,  even  at  the  risk 
of  being  too  "matter  of  fact".  I  shall  try  not  to 
be  so  prolix  as  Samuel  Richardson,  the  inventor 
of  the  modern  novel,  who  commonly  prolonged 
his  stories  through  many  volumes,  or  so  concise 
as  the  Great  Caesar,  who  compressed  the  ac- 
count of  a  whole  campaign  into  the  three  words, 
"I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered."  My  effort  to 
give  an  unbiased  account  of  the  events  may 
render  it  necessary  for  you  to  read  between  the 
lines  sometimes,  for  I  am  sure  that  words 
will  fail  me  often  to  fully  express  the  exact 
truth.  Trusting  that  your  woman's  intuition 
will  enable  you  to  understand  my  meaning  I 
will  proceed  without  any  further  preliminary 
remarks. 

Did  I  tell  you  that  I  was  here  attending  the 
American  Medical  Institute?  Well,  that  was 
the  occasion  and  it  was  some  years  ago.  I 
had  not  planned  to  attend  the  Institute  that 
year  but  at  the  last  moment  I  was  informed  that 
I  had  been  delegated  to  represent  our  college  at 
the  meetings,  so  I  closed  my  office  and  went. 


l8  THE   FULFILLING   OF   THE    LAW. 

It  was  my  first  visit  to  this  city  and  I  remember 
that  I  had  some  trouble  in  finding  suitable 
living  quarters,  but  finally  found  comfortable 
accommodations  in  a  private  home  through  the 
introduction  of  a  friend.  The  city  was  full  of 
visitors  who  had  come  to  attend  the  Trans- 
Mississippi  Exposition,  of  which  I  shall  have 
something  to  say  in  another  letter. 

Having  found  a  place  to  live  I  hastened  out 
to  find  the  Medical  College  building,  where  the 
Institute  was  holding  its  meetings.  I  wanted 
to  register  before  the  morning  session.  The 
Institute  had  already  convened,  having  had  a 
preliminary  meeting  the  evening  before.  I 
found  the  college  decorated  and  fitted  up  for 
our  convenience  and  in  our  honor  by  the  young 
ladies  of  the  city.  There  were  Information 
Bureau,  Postoffice  and  Stenographic  depart- 
ments conducted  in  a  business-like  manner  by 
young  lady  volunteers  who  spared  no  pains  to 
make  themselves  useful  and  us  comfortable. 

The  college  building  was  commodious  and 
well  suited  to  the  needs  of  the  Institute,  having 
plenty  of  small  rooms  for  the  sectional  and  com- 
mittee meetings.  The  halls  and  every  available 
space  were  occupied  by  booths  prepared  by  the 
usual  contingent  of  representatives  of  the  man- 
ufacturers of  physicians'  supplies.  There  were 
the  electrical  men,  instrument  men,  rubber  goods 
men,  prepared  foods  men,  and  prepared  drinks 
men,  with  their  burdensome  samples.  The  free 


THE   FINDING   OF   A   FRIEND.  19 

drinks  men  did  the  most  business,  for  they 
served  anything  from  distilled  water  to  distilled 
rye,  and  even  doctors  are  weak  in  temptations 
of  that  sort  in  dry  weather.  The  sessions  of  the 
Institute  were  interesting  and  many  of  the  dis- 
cussions of  vital  questions  were  well  worth  men- 
tion, but  they,  like  the  college  building,  must  be 
passed  with  this  simple  notice,  for  you  are  doubt- 
less anxious  for  me  to  get  on  with  my  story. 

At  the  Bureau  of  Information,  at  which  I  was 
obliged  to  appeal  frequently,  being  a  stranger  in 
the  city,  I  met  Miss  Elga  Grace  Tutel,  with  her 
sweet,  sad  face  and  her  low-pitched,  musical 
voice,  never  to  be  forgotten.  I  wish  that  I 
could  portray  her  to  you  as  she  appeared  to  me 
in  those  days.  If  she  was  not  really  beautiful, 
at  least  she  had  good  looks  and  perfect  manners, 
and  she  was  a  lady.  The  erectness  of  her  car- 
riage made  her  appear  rather  tall,  although  she 
was  really  below  medium  height  and  of  slight 
build.  The  color  of  her  eyes  was  elusive;  at  a 
distance  they  appeared  black,  but  they  were 
brown,  deep  but  not  so  dark  as  her  dusky  hair, 
which  was  almost  black.  To  these  details  add 
small,  regular  features,  a  clear  complexion,  and 
a  dress  simple  almost  to  plainness,  and  you  will 
have  but  a  faint  idea  of  what  I  saw  at  the  col- 
lege that  morning,  for  it  will  lack  the  subtle 
charm  of  life. 

During  the  day  of  my  arrival,  Friday,  I  saw 
Miss  Tutel  several  times  in  her  official  capacity, 


2O  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

but  I  did  not  see  her  at  the  reception  in  the 
evening,  although  she  afterwards  informed  me 
that  she  was  there.  This  indicates  to  me  that  I 
was  attracted  but  not  deeply  impressed  by  her 
on  the  first  day;  if  I  had  been  I  should  have 
certainly  sought  her  out  on  that  occasion.  The 
reception  was  given  to  the  visiting  physicians 
by  a  prominent  citizen,  Mr.  Dinegen,  who  opened 
his  palatial  home  and  beautiful  grounds  with 
generous  hospitality  to  his  unknown  guests. 
Fairy-like  little  misses  flitted  about  the  grounds 
and  house  with  baskets  of  flowers,  decorating 
all  who  came  unadorned  with  flowers,  and  the 
belles  of  the  town  served  refreshments  of  the 
daintiest  sort,  out  under  the  stars.  The  thing 
was  properly  done;  no  one's  comfort  was  over- 
looked; the  lovers  of  the  "filthy  weed"  were 
supplied  with  fragrant  importations,  and  the 
meissen  with  bon  bons.  Soft  sweet  strains  of 
music  came  to  us  from  a  string  band  hidden 
away  somewhere  in  the  shrubbery.  Of  the  house 
I  shall  say  nothing  except  of  the  art  gallery  and 
the  curio  room  and  only  a  word  about  these. 
When  the  evening  was  far  spent  and  I  was 
thinking  of  going,  in  my  aimless  wandering 
about  I  came  upon  a  young  lady  sitting  alone, 
resting.  It  was  Miss  Edith  Hyde,  an  art  stu- 
dent and  the  caretaker  of  the  gallery.  I  sat 
down  beside  her  and  we  talked,  or  to  be  more 
exact,  she  talked  of  her  beloved  art  and  I 
listened,  filled  with  admiration  for  her  splendid 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  21 

ambitions.  Presently  she  conducted  me  to  the 
gallery  to  show  me  the  picture  that  she  had 
been  describing.  It  was  a  picture  entitled 
"The  Brothers,"  representing  the  return  in  the 
disguise  of  a  beggar,  of  the  brother  who  had 
been  supplanted  and  banished  by  intrigue. 

"I  always  feel  so  sorry  for  the  wronged  man," 
she  concluded  with  a  little  sigh,  as  she  turned 
to  another  picture. 

"It  is  a  sad  story,"  I  assented,  following  her. 
The  charm  of  her  presence  comes  over  me  as 
I  write  and  I  see  her  again,  as  I  saw  her  that 
night,  kneeling  before  a  picture  of  the  crucified 
Christ.  I  do  not  think  that  the  attitude  was 
so  much  one  of  devotion  as  of  habit  and  con- 
venience, for  the  picture  was  hung  very  low 
and  she  had  made  a  copy  of  this,  her  favorite 
picture.  The  reverence  expressed  upon  the 
girl's  face  was  beautiful  in  the  extreme  and  I 
felt  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  holiness. 
She  was  a  great  soul  and  would  have  been  a 
great  artist.  She  showed  evidence  of  genius 
even  at  that  early  age,  but  it  was  not  to  be;  her 
ambitious  soul  was  too  great  for  her  body,  and 
it  broke  away  from  that  fragile  member  which 
several  years  ago  began  its  last,  long  rest.  I  do 
not  now  remember  a  single  feature  of  her 
sainted  face,  but  this  I  know,  that  I  was  enter- 
tained by  an  angel  unawares. 

I  met  many  nice  people  at  the  reception,  all 
interesting  in  their  several  ways,  but    I   shall 


22  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

mention  only  one  more  at  this  time.  The  Rev- 
erend Andrew  Thompson,  an  old  college  friend 
of  mine,  was  a  member  of  the  reception  com- 
mittee and  recognized  me  upon  my  arrival. 

"Well,  as  I  live,  it  is  de  Wald!"  exclaimed  the 
reverend  gentleman,  grasping  my  hand  cor- 
dially. 

"Yes,  it  is  I  right  enough,"  I  admitted,  return- 
ing his  friendly  hand-pressure  and  manner. 

"Where  are  you  preaching,  old  fellow?"  he 
asked. 

"O,  I  am  not  preaching,  I  am  practising,"  I 
answered  laughingly. 

"Not  preaching,  but  practising?"  he  inquired, 
not  understanding  my  little  joke. 

"I  am  practising  medicine,  not  theology.  You 
know  I  took  a  course  in  medicine  after  we  left 
the  Seminary,"  I  explained. 

"No,  I  did  not  know,  but  that  explains  how 
you  happen  to  be  among  our  medical  guests. 
Well,  you  are  more  than  welcome,  old  fellow, 
and  I  shall  see  you  after  a  little  while,"  he  said, 
as  I  moved  on  to  make  room  for  other  guests. 

Later  in  the  evening  we  had  a  little  visit,  the 
outcome  of  which  was  that  I  was  booked  to 
occupy  the  pulpit  of  the  Central  Church  on 
the  following  Sunday  morning.  A  sight-seeing 
drive  was  planned  for  the  next  day  which  was 
not  so  bad.  Of  the  drive  and  the  pulpit  ex- 
perience I  shall  write  in  my  next  letter. 

I  am  amazed  at  the  way  revisiting  places 


THE    FINDING    OP   A    FRIEND.  23 

brings  back  the  past.  Past  years  are  brushed 
away  and  events  of  the  long  ago  seem  to  have 
occurred  but  yesterday.  So  it  was  with  me 
to-day  as  I  sat  for  a  few  moments  in  the  art 
gallery  and  as  I  stood  by  the  gate  overlooking 
the  lawn.  Edith  Hyde  was  not  dead,  but 
present  with  me  there,  although  another  occupied 
her  place;  the  voice  of  the  pastor  of  Central 
Church  seemed  still  to  vibrate  in  my  ear;  and 
the  perfume  of  the  flowers  was  the  same  as  last 
night,  years  ago.  Time  and  space  are  nothing 
to  the  soul ;  for  it  there  is  no  past,  no  future,  but 
an  eternal  present,  an  everlasting  now. 

Before  I  write  more  I  must  visit  the  Medical 
College  building,  the  park,  and  the  Central 
Church,  for  they  are  the  places  where  the  events 
occurred  which  I  shall  next  relate  to  you. 

Now,  my  friend,  I  will  bid  you  good  night. 
Faithfully, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

III. 

OMAHA,  NEB.,  JULY  8,  19 — . 
Dear  Leola: — 

It  is  good  of  you  and  quite  like  you  to  say 
that  my  letters  will  be  waited  for  with  great 
impatience  by  yourself.  However,  I  fear  that 
your  interest  may  wane  after  you  have  read  two 
or  three  of  them;  nevertheless  I  shall  go  on  with 
my  story.  I  was  out  gathering  material  for 
it  to-day. 


94  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Saturday  morning  I  went  to  the  Institute 
building  rather  early,  for  no  special  reason  ex- 
cept that  I  had  nothing  else  to  do  and  thought 
that  there  might  be  something  in  my  mail  re- 
quiring attention.  As  I  entered  the  accommo- 
dation room,  I  noticed  that  Miss  Tutel,  who  was 
acting  postmistress,  had  a  pained  expression 
upon  her  face  as  if  suffering  physically. 

"There  is  no  mail  for  you,  Dr.  de  Wald."  she 
announced,  as  she  smoothed  out  her  face  and 
tried  to  appear  composed,  the  tears  glistening 
on  her  eyelashes  all  the  while. 

"What  is  the  matter?  Are  you  ill?  If  you  are 
you  ought  not  to  have  come  out.  Surely  they 
should  spare  a  sick  person,"  I  said  with  more 
feeling  than  was  necessary,  for  I  felt  a  keen 
interest  in  this  unknown  lady. 

"O  no,  I  am  not  ill;  that  is,  not  physically. 
Some  of  these  men  are  so  rude  they  hurt  my 
feelings,  that  is  all,"  she  explained. 

"It  is  too  bad;  such  men  are  brutes,"  I  de- 
clared, warmly. 

"I  am  not  used  to  being  ordered  about  like  a 
slave,  but  I  suppose  that  I  ought  not  to  mind  it. 
Perhaps  I  shall  get  used  to  it,"  she  concluded, 
making  a  wry  face  at  the  thought. 

"I  sincerely  hope  that  may  not  be  necessary," 
I  said,  and  wishing  to  change  the  subject,  but 
partly  for  another  reason,  I  asked:  "Do  you 
know  all  of  your  applicants'  names,  Miss  Post- 
mistress?" 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  2$ 

"No,  indeed,"  she  replied,  and  then  went  on 
with  a  pretty  confusion  of  manner,"  I  heard  some 
one  call  to  you  yesterday  and  your  name  being 
a  strange  one  to  me  fixed  itself  in  my  memory. 
There  was  nothing  occult  about  it." 

"Do  you  not  think  that  it  is  unfair  for  you  to 
know  my  name  and  let  me  remain  ignorant  of 
yours?"  I  asked,  seriously. 

"I  am  not  sure  that  it  is.  Many  persons  know 
professional  people  who  never  know  them — it 
is  the  price  they  have  to  pay  for  distinction, 
you  know,"  she  returned,  evasively. 

"Let's  be  polite  and  exchange  visiting  cards," 
I  pleaded,  persuasively,  producing  and  offering 
her  mine. 

"I  have  none  here,"  she  said  taking  my  card, 
"but  I  will  write  you  one,"  and  she  wrote, 
"Miss  Elga  Tutel,  2019  Capital  Avenue,  Oma- 
ha, Nebr.,"  upon  a  card  and  handed  it  to  me. 

"Now  we  are  acquainted  and  shall  be  good 
friends  I  am  sure,"  I  said. 

"We  shall  see  about  that,"  she  said,  tentatively, 
as  she  put  her  hand  into  my  extended  palm. 

After  that  brief  conversation  which  occupied 
but  a  few  moments  of  time,  there  is  no  doubt 
but  that  she  had  made  a  lasting  impression 
upon  me  and  that  if  we  had  both  attended  the 
same  reception  thereafter  I  should  have  sought 
her  out.  You  are  a  woman,  so  I  need  not  tell 
you  that  it  does  not  take  long  to  form  attach- 
ments which  last  throughout  the  years  of  a 


26  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

long  lifetime.  I  saw  Miss  Tutel  several  times 
during  that  morning,  for  it  is  easy  to  find  an 
excuse  for  doing  the  things  that  we  want  to  do 
and  she  regularly  greeted  me  with  a  friendly 
smile.  Now  you  know  how  our  friendship  be- 
gan, but  it  remains  to  be  told  how  it  grew. 

Immediately  after  luncheon  according  to  ap- 
pointment, Rev.  Andrew  Thompson  came  and 
took  me  for  the  promised  drive.  The  drive 
proved  immensely  enjoyable,  for  the  day  was 
pleasant  and  the  scenes  new  and  attractive. 
However,  the  drive  was  not  a  long  one,  and  I 
soon  learned  that  the  pastor's  objective  point 
was  Hanscomb  Park,  where  he  had  a  Sunday 
School  picnic  to  superintend.  Upon  our  ar- 
rival at  the  park  the  conviction  was  instantly 
forced  upon  me  that  the  reverend  gentle- 
man would  have  no  more  time  to  devote  to 
me  for  the  present.  The  dear  pastor  was  be- 
sieged. Attacking  parties  came  upon  him  simul- 
taneously from  all  quarters,  he  was  forced 
to  capitulate  and  was  carried  away  prisoner  of 
love,  by  the  merry  marauders,  to  parts  unknown 
to  the  writer.  The  confusion  incident  to  the 
capture  furnished  me  an  opportunity  to  make 
my  escape  unobserved,  and  taking  advantage 
of  it  I  went  off  to  explore  the  distant  parts  of 
the  park.  Now,  if  you  expect  me  to  describe 
the  bits  of  beautiful  scenery  that  I  happened 
upon  in  my  stroll  through  that  park  you  are 
doomed  to  disappointment,  for  I  could  not  do 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  2J 

it  if  I  would.  Besides  are  not  all  parks  much 
alike?  A  little  water,  a  few  trees,  a  stretch  of 
green  grass,  arranged  into  hills,  dales,  groves, 
and  miniature  lakes.  Close  your  eyes  a  mo- 
ment and  from  these  materials  your  imagination 
will  construct  a  park  full  of  scenery  incomparably 
more  beautiful  than  anything  that  I  saw  there. 
And  yet,  Hanscomb  Park  is  beautiful  to  me  by 
reason  of  the  pleasant  memories  I  have  asso- 
ciated with  it  which  I  shall  soon  write  to  my 
little  friend  who  is  waiting  impatiently  to  hear. 

The  attack  upon  the  pastor  reminds  me  of 
what  one  of  my  lady  patients  said  to  me.  What 
strange  things  you  women  sometimes  say  to 
us  men ;  doubtless  they  are  simple  enough  to  you 
but  to  us  they  are  often  too  mysterious  for  our 
comprehension.  The  lady  was  recovering  her 
health  after  a  serious  illness,  the  joy  of  living 
was  upon  her,  flooding  her  soul  with  its  birth- 
right, a  boundless  capacity  to  love,  and  she  said: 
"Doctor,  now  I  understand  that  we  women 
must  love  three  men:  First,  of  course,  we  must 
love  our  husbands;  then,  we  should  love  our 
pastors ;  and  lately  I  have  learned  that  we  must 
also  love  our  doctors." 

I  made  no  effort  to  reply.  What  was  there 
to  say?  I  knew  that  it  was  true  to  her,  be- 
cause she  was  a  woman.  It  is  woman's  nature 
to  love,  and  the  love  she  gives  is  innocent  and 
pure  until  it  is  contaminated  by  evil  suggestions. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  condemn  women  because 


28  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

their  natural  affection  and  trustfulness  are 
imposed  upon  by  weak  or  designing  men. 

The  picnickers  were  having  the  merriest  of 
times  when  I  returned  to  the  rallying  point. 
The  pastor  saw  me  while  I  was  yet  afar  off  and 
led  his  host  out  to  meet  me  and  escorted  me 
back  to  camp  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony. 
I  was  presented  to  them  all,  small  and  great, 
and  when  it  was  known  that  I  was  the  pastor's 
friend  and  was  to  preach  for  him  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  I  was  received  into  full  fellowship 
and  shared  his  place  in  their  hearts.  The  spirit 
of  the  occasion  took  possession  of  me ;  I  became 
as  frolicsome  as  any  of  them  and  joined  heartily 
in  their  sports.  I  had  not  had  so  much  fun 
for  years,  since  I  was  a  boy  in  fact,  and  I  was 
sorry  when  the  games  were  called  off  and  the 
supper  was  called  on.  But  not  so  with  the 
youngsters,  for  their  young  appetites  having 
been  sharpened  by  the  exercise,  were  more  than 
ready  for  food.  Beside,  had  they  not  longed 
for  this  hour  for  days?  I  shared  their  supper 
as  I  had  their  sports  and  I  confess  that  it  was 
good  to  be  a  boy  again  just  for  a  little  while. 

Supper  over,  there  was  a  little  more  playing, 
a  little  more  eating,  and  a  good  deal  of  falling 
asleep  of  the  tired  little  ones,  then  the  packing 
up  preparatory  to  going  home.  It  is  much  the 
same  after  a  picnic  as  it  is  after  a  ball,  only  more 
so.  All  were  tired  and  I  joined  the  pastor  in 
his  sigh  of  relief  when  the  last  bus  was  safely 
off  on  its  homeward  journey. 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  2Q 

The  picnic  ended  with  the  day,  and  in  like 
manner,  I  shall  end  my  letter  with  them  both, 
saving  my  account  of  Sunday  for  my  next 
epistle.  Do  not  be  discouraged;  we  shall  get 
on  faster  presently. 

Trusting  that  you  are  interested  and  that 
you  will  become  more  so  as  my  story  progresses, 
I  am,  Very  truly  your  friend, 

V.  DE  W. 

IV. 

OMAHA',  JULY  10,  19 — . 
My  Dear  Leola: — 

Your  praises  are  sweet  and  your  appreciation 
spurs  me  on  to  greater  efforts.  However,  I 
had  already  resolved  to  do  as  you  suggest, 
namely,  to  write  more  of  myself,  so  that  my 
story  will  be  "more  like  a  book  story."  What 
a  quaint  little  thing  you  are,  but  I  fear  you  may 
find  me  an  unheroic  hero. 

The  events  of  Saturday  did  not  end  with  the 
closing  day.  When  I  returned  from  my  outing, 
tired  and  dusty,  I  learned  that  an  evening 
session  of  the  Institute  had  been  announced, 
at  which  some  important  matters  were  to  be 
passed  upon.  I  thought  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  attend,  so  after  sprucing  up  a  bit  I  went. 
Nor  was  I  sorry  that  I  did  so  when  I  found,  not 
that  the  matters  were  important  to  my  con- 
stituents, as  you  may  imagine,  but  that  my 
newly-made  friend,  Miss  Tutel,  who  was  faith- 


30  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

fully  at  her  post;  was  inclined  to  treat  me  with 
marked  friendliness.  She  was  gone  when  the 
session  closed,  but  I  caught  myself  thinking 
of  her  more  than  once  before  falling  asleep 
that  night;  perhaps  I  also  dreamed  of  her.  At 
any  rate,  the  impression  she  had  made  was 
surely  deepening.  What  do  you  think — was  I 
dangerously  near  falling  in  love  at  that  point? 
Yes,  I  think  so  too,  but  whether  I  really  did 
or  not  you  shall  have  the  opportunity  to  judge 
later. 

Sunday  came,  bringing  all  of  the  beauties  and 
comforts  of  a  perfect  summer  day.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  well  to  add  here  that  all  of  the  five 
days  that  I  spent  here  at  that  time  were  ideal 
summer  days.  However  it  should  be  mentioned 
that  the  wind  and  heat  contribute  to  the  spice 
of  life,  occasionally,  in  these  parts.  The  church, 
not  far  distant,  I  readily  found,  going  early 
enough  to  familiarize  myself  with  the  premises 
and  to  become  acquainted  with  the  sexton  be- 
fore the  congregation  assembled.  The  pastor 
also  came  early  to  arrange  the  details  of  the 
service.  It  was  arranged  after  some  persuasion 
on  my  part  and  a  like  amount  of  protestation 
on  his  that  he  should  conduct  all  of  the  service 
and  introduce  me  at  the  proper  time  to  deliver 
the  address.  The  dear  fellow  wanted  me  to 
offer  prayer,  as  if  my  task  was  not  hard  enough 
without  any  addition.  The  church,  a  commo- 
dious wooden  structure,  plainly  furnished,  has 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  31 

since  been  replaced  by  a  nobler  pile,  but  I 
doubt  if  its  grandeur  offers  a  more  acceptable 
place  in  which  to  worship  than  the  old  one 
did  in  its  simplicity  that  morning.  I  noticed 
that  the  congregation,  which  was  rapidly  filling 
the  church,  was  made  up  largely  of  common 
people,  so-called.  Grandeur,  and  the  churches 
are  not  exceptions,  does  not  attract  the  poor. 
It  is  too  great  a  contrast  to  their  poverty;  it 
makes  them  self-conscious.  So  they  instinct- 
ively avoid  it,  seeking  instead  places  where 
they  feel  comfortable. 

The  organ  prelude  began,  the  pastor  laid  his 
hand  significantly  upon  my  arm,  we  mounted 
the  pulpit  together  and  faced  the  congregation. 
I  was  startled,  almost  frightened,  at  the  prospect, 
for  a  considerable  number  of  my  medical  breth- 
ren were  entering  the  church  in  a  body.  They 
filed  right  and  left,  filling  tier  after  tier  of  the 
front  seats,  evidently  having  prepared  a  little 
surprise  for  me.  It  was  neither  an  optical 
illusion,  nor  was  I  at  a  meeting  of  the  Institute, 
presently  to  be  addressed  by  a  nestor  of  medical 
wisdom.  No,  there  they  were — bald-headed, 
gray-bearded  seniors,  and  I  thought  that  I 
detected  wicked  twinkles  in  some  of  the  eyes 
looking  up  at  me.  I  suppose  that  one  should 
feel  safe  in  the  presence  of  such  a  company  of 
eminent  medical  men,  but  I,  on  the  contrary, 
felt  very  unsafe  and  sick  at  the  knees;  so  much 
so,  indeed,  that  I  almost  failed  to  observe, 


32  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

what  you,  dear  reader,  are  probably  very  anxious 
to  know — that  is,  if  she  was  there.  No,  she 
was  not  there,  and  I  was  disappointed.  Are 
you?  The  rest  of  the  congregation  was  made 
up  chiefly  of  small  family  parties,  the  thrifty 
poor,  as  I  have  already  intimated. 

The  effect  of  the  knock-out  blow  that  the  sur- 
prise party  gave  me  did  not  fully  wear  off  until 
the  pastor's  voice  brought  me  to  my  senses 
with  a  start.  It  was  saying  that  he  had  the 
honor,  the  pleasure,  he  might  say  the  great  joy, 
of  introducing  his  very  dear  friend  and  class- 
mate, Dr.  de  Wald,  who  would  now  address 
them  upon  the  theme:  "The  Master  Influences 
in  the  Formation  of  Character."  I  looked 
around,  apparently  bewildered,  like  one  suddenly 
awakened  from  a  trance;  then,  as  the  pastor 
turned  to  me,  I  grasped  his  extended  hand  and 
was  led  to  the  front  of  the  platform.  A  mo- 
ment's silence  followed.  It  seemed  much  longer 
to  me,  for  I  felt  my  sick  knees  shaking  under 
me;  it  was  like  the  last  moment  to  a  drowning 
man ;  in  that  brief  space  of  time  I  was  distinctly 
conscious  of  every  event  of  my  whole  life.  Dur- 
ing the  silence  I  tried  to  scan  the  audience 
casually  and  then  began:  "Ladies  and  gentle- 
men." But  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  said  in  a 
letter;  it  would  fill  several  letters  like  these. 
The  best  I  can  do  is  to  send  you  a  copy  of  what 
appeared  in  the  paper  as  a  report  of  the  address 
the  next  morning.  Although  it  is  fragmentary 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  33 

and  unsatisfactory,  it  will,  at  least,  tell  you 
that  I  did  not  utterly  fail.     I  will  copy  it  below : 

THE  MASTER  INFLUENCES  IN  THE 
FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER. 

Dr.  Val  de  Wald  of  the  Chicago  Medical 
College  occupied  the  pulpit  of  the  Central  Church 
yesterday  morning,  delivering  a  scholarly  ad- 
dress on  the  theme:  "The  Master  Influences 
in  the  Formation  of  Character,"  to  a  large  and 
appreciative  audience.  A  large  number  of  phy- 
sicians attending  the  American  Medical  Institute, 
now  holding  its  session  in  this  city,  were  present. 
Dr.  de  Wald  said  in  part: 
"Every  well  written  biography  is  divided  into 
three  parts,  dealing  with  as  many  forces  having 
a  more  or  less  formative  influence  upon  the 
character  of  the  subject  of  memoir.  The  writer 
first  turns  his  attention  to  the  subject's  an- 
cestors, going  back  several  generations  and  care- 
fully studying  the  characters  and  lives  of  his 
grand-parents.  He  lets  no  form  or  physical 
peculiarity  escape  his  notice  and  as  carefully 
notes  every  idiosyncrasy  of  character  of  each 
progenitor.  Then  still  more  carefully,  he  studies 
the  immediate  parents  of  the  subject,  observing 
every  physical  form  and  mental  condition.  In 
the  second  place  he  observes  the  conditions  and 
circumstances  into  which  the  subject  is  born, 
noting  every  smallest  detail.  He  considers  the 
home  atmosphere,  its  harmony  or  discord,  and 
the  treatment  that  he  receives  at  the  hands  of 
his  parents.  The  location  of  the  home  is  ob- 
served, whether  it  is  in  the  city  or  the  country, 
whether  the  child  has  made  his  playground  in 


34  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

the  narrow  alleys  of  the  city  or  in  the  wide  fields 
of  the  country.  His  associates  are  considered, 
all  of  them,  as  are  also  the  religious  and  polit- 
ical conditions  of  the  time.  The  third  formative 
influence  to  be  considered  is,  namely,  the  power 
of  mind,  or  the  power  of  self-direction  that 
enables  the  subject  to  become  different  from 
and  greater  than  his  ancestors  and  rise  above 
the  conditions  and  circumstances  of  his  life — 
the  power  that  makes  him  feel  the  dignity  of 
manhood  and  fires  his  ambition  to  be  and  do 
something  good  and  great.  These  are  the  things 
that  mark  the  character  of  the  man. 

"It  is  plain  that  biography  is  simply  a  study 
of  natural  history,  in  which  the  subject  is  one 
of  the  higher  instead  of  one  of  the  lower  animals. 
Therefore,  what  is  true  of  one  is  true  of  the 
other,  so  I  may  be  pardoned  if  I  ask  you  to 
follow  me  for  a  few  moments  while  I  review  a 
couple  of  chapters  in  Biology  to  illustrate  the 
laws  of  Conformity  to  Type,  and  Variation. 
These  laws  correspond  to  the  laws  of  heredity 
and  environment  respectively,  which  are  laws 
of  necessity.  Conformity  to  type,  or  heredity, 
account  for  most  of  the  physical  resemblances 
to  our  ancestors,  while  surrounding  conditions, 
or  environment  explain  most  of  the  mental  and 
moral  likenesses. 

"Let  us  examine  a  specific  example.  Here  is 
a  family  of  four,  the  parents  and  two  children, 
a  boy  and  a  girl.  For  the  purpose  of  our  illus- 
tration, let  us  suppose  that  the  boy  is  an  exact 
copy  of  his  father,  and  the  girl  a  similar  repro- 
duction of  her  mother.  It  might  be  otherwise; 
the  boy  might  resemble  the  mother  and  the 
girl  the  father,  or  each  resemble  both  parents, 
or  they  might  resemble  more  remote  ancestors. 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  35 

Why  is  the  boy  a  "chip  off  of  the  old  block" 
and  the  girl  "her  mother  all  over  again?"  The 
answer  is  at  hand.  We  have  observed  the  work- 
ings of  two  powerful  influences  which  satis- 
factorily answer  our  query,  namely:  Conformity 
to  type,  or  heredity  accounts  for  most  of  the 
physical  resemblances,  while  the  law  of  variation, 
or  environment  explains  most  of  the  mental  and 
moral  likenesses.  The  children  are  born  like 
their  parents  in  form,  face  and  complexion. 
The  boy  got  his  angular,  ungainly  frame  and 
rugged,  irregular  features  from  his  father;  and 
the  girl  got  her  petite,  graceful  form  and  reg- 
ular, classic  features  from  her  mother.  They 
received  their  copper  skins  from  both  parents, 
for  they  were  children  of  the  red  race.  Their 
mental  and  moral  characteristics  have  been 
copied  from  their  parents  and  other  associates. 
Children  always  think  their  parents  the  most 
exalted  examples  in  the  world  and,  as  the  parents 
form  most  of  the  environment  of  early  childhood 
they  are  more  likely  to  copy  them  than  others. 
These  influences  are  not  limited  in  their  effects 
to  childhood,  but  continue  throughout  life,  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave.  For  instance,  it  is  well 
known  that  old  married  people  who  have  lived 
long  together  show  the  effects  of  this  law.  They 
not  only  grow  to  think  and  act  alike,  but  actually 
grow  to  resemble  each  other  in  physical  likeness. 
"What  has  been  said  will  suffice  to  illustrate 
the  potency  and  far  reaching  influences  of  an- 
cestry and  conditioning  circumstances,  and  they 
deserve  to  be  dignified  as  master  influences  in 
character  formation,  for  they  are  influences 
which  make  us  what  they  will  and  not  what  we 
will.  Their  fated  influence  none  can  escape 
unless  there  is  some  other  influence  by  which 


36  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

they  may  be  modified  or  overcome.  If  we  were 
obliged  to  stop  here,  if  I  could  utter  no  other 
word,  our  condition  would  be  hopeless  indeed, 
and  I  might  as  well  conclude  here.  I  can  say 
another  word,  however,  that  will  give  hope. 
There  is  a  way  of  escape  that  comes  from  within. 
In  every  human  being  there  is  a  power  suffi- 
ciently strong  to  resist  the  evil  tendencies  of 
heredity  and  to  overcome  the  unfortunate  in- 
fluences of  environment. 

"Everyone  has  a  mind,  a  soul,  an  ego,  a  power 
of  self-determination,  a  will  to  choose.  It  is 
the  choice  of  this  soul  that  determines  the  char- 
acter. Therefore,  the  power  of  self-determina- 
tion is  the  last  and  chief  master  influence  which 
I  wish  to  emphasize,  for  it  is  the  means  of 
salvation  and  regeneration  from  the  unsatis- 
factory results  of  inheritance  and  environment. 
It  is  able  to  strengthen  and  improve  the  physical 
tendencies  of  heredity  and  make  the  body  a 
tower  of  strength." 

I  was  glad  when  it  was  all  over,  the  address 
finished,  the  benediction  pronounced,  and  the 
congratulations  offered.  The  knowledge  that  I 
had  succeeded  in  presenting  my  message  accept- 
ably was  pleasant,  as  were  the  congratulations 
also,  but  to  a  modest  man  praise,  whether  it  is 
merited  or  not,  is  always  embarrassing.  For- 
tunately for  me  there  was  little  time  for  bouquets 
— mine  were  made  up  of  the  flowers  of  speech — 
for  the  Sunday  School  immediately  followed  the 
other  services  in  the  same  room.  The  older 
people  were  hurried  out  to  make  way  for  the 
children,  who  quickly  assembled,  arranging 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  37 

themselves  into  small  groups  or  classes.  Many 
of  the  bright  faces  smiled  me  a  greeting,  and 
some  of  the  braver  ones  came  and  spoke  to  me 
in  a  shy,  childish  way.  I  remained  to  Sunday 
School  and  taught  the  adult  Bible  class,  whose 
teacher  insisted  upon  my  taking  his  place,  for 
I  was  to  take  dinner  with  the  pastor's  family, 
all  of  whom  attended  the  school. 

The  pastor  lived  in  a  neat,  frame  cottage  in 
the  midst  of  his  people,  which  in  my  judgment 
is  the  proper  place  for  the  shepherd  of  a  flock. 
After  a  pleasant  time  in  the  dining  room,  where 
the  pastor's  good  wife  served  dinner,  and  a 
little  general  conversation  in  the  parlor,  the 
pastor  took  me  into  his  study  to  show  me  his 
library  and  to  talk  over  old  times.  We  had  a 
good  visit  and  I  went  away  an  hour  or  two 
later  with  the  conviction  that,  although  he  was 
not  wealthy,  the  pastor  was  blessed  with  a 
minister's  legacy,  a  wagon-load  of  books  and 
a  cart-load  of  children  and  should  be  happy. 

Now,  little  reader,  I  have  done  with  ministers 
and  the  ministry.  Henceforth  you  shall  read  of 
secular  things,  as  my  next  move  plainly  indi- 
cates, for  it  was  toward  the  Exposition  grounds. 
From  prayer  to  pastime  is  a  long  leap,  but  it 
is  one  which  is  often  made,  and  why  not;  do 
they  not  both  minister  to  human  happiness  and 
growth?  It  was  the  Sabbath,  you  reply.  True, 
but  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  not  man 
for  the  Sabbath.  The  Exposition  grounds  were 


38  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

open  but  most  of  the  buildings  were  closed,  for 
the  fight  for  Sunday  closing  was  at  its  height; 
later,  it  was  run  wide-open  every  day  in  the 
week.  I  shall  not  commit  myself  upon  this 
question,  even  to  you,  further  than  to  say,  if 
expositions  are  educational  institutions  keep 
them  wide  open,  for  we  cannot  have  too  much 
education;  but,  if  they  are  breeding  places  for 
vice  they  would  be  better  closed  altogether. 
In  the  grounds  I  met  a  party  of  my  medical 
colleagues,  and  I  had  a  delightful  stroll  with 
them,  enjoying  beautiful  conceptions  that  were 
there  realized.  Of  these  things  I  shall  write  in 
another  connection;  I  will  only  say  that  they 
were  exquisitely  beautiful,  feeling  that  it  is  a 
weak  expression  to  represent  them,  especially 
the  illumination  at  night,  for  which  we  waited. 
The  moon  and  stars  were  outshone  by  the 
myriads  of  electric  lights  which  blazed  like  a 
brilliant  gem  upon  the  bosom  of  mother  earth. 
A  few  words  more  will  suffice  to  finish  my 
account  of  this  day,  and  only  two  days  will 
then  remain  of  my  visit;  but  the  two  most 
eventful  ones,  for  I  left  early  Wednesday  for 
Dakota,  where  I  paid  my  dear  parents  an  unex- 
pected visit.  I  spent  what  remained  of  the 
evening  after  returning  from  the  Exposition, 
writing  letters,  one  of  which  was  to  my  brother 
to  announce  my  return  home  after  an  absence 
of  fifteen  years.  Of  this  visit  you  will  read  in 
due  time  in  letters  written  to  another.  They 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  39 

were  written  to  the  lady  who  made  the  following 
two  days  memorable  to  me,  and,  doubtless, 
you  will  be  glad  to  know  that  my  next  letters 
will  be  full  of  her  doings  and  sayings. 

Well,  my  little  lady  reader,  do  you  find  any 
occasion  for  complaint  in  this  letter  because 
I  have  omitted  any  opportunity  to  write  of 
myself?  To  me  it  is  egotistic,  but  if  it  suits 
you  I  am  satisfied,  for  it  is  written  solely  for 
your  beautiful  eyes  to  read.  Hoping  that  I 
may  soon  have  the  pleasure  of  looking  into 
them  again,  I  am, 

Truly, 

VAL  DB  WALD. 

V. 

OMAHA,  JULY  12,  19 — . 
Leola,  dear: — 

Your  letters  go  far  toward  making  me  con- 
tented with  my  enforced  stay  here,  they  are 
so  charmingly  frank  and  encouraging  that  I 
cannot  help  trying  to  merit  your  rare  praise. 
I  do  not  mind  your  complaint  that  my  letters 
"are  as  exasperating  as  a  serial  story  in  a 
magazine,"  for  in  it  I  scent  a  compliment. 
Confess  that  you  are  interested,  wanting  the 
installments  oftener,  and  I  will  hurry  them 
along;  but  please  notice  how  much  better  I 
have  been  doing  for  my  dear  reader  than  the 
magazines  do  for  theirs. 

The  next  morning  found  me  early  at  the  col- 


40  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

lege  building  for  two  reasons,  namely,  to  get 
my  mail,  and  to  visit  the  Information  Bureau, 
as  Miss  Tutel  sometimes  styled  herself.  Now, 
if  honest  confession  is  good  for  the  soul,  that 
should  make  my  soul  feel  good  for  it  is  honest 
and  true  enough.  Disappointment  awaited  me 
in  neither  particular.  I  received  a  number  of 
letters  from  the  Post  Office  and  a  wreath  of 
smiles  and  a  friendly  handshake  from  the  In- 
formation Lady.  The  cordiality  with  which  she 
greeted  me  was  most  flattering  and  pleasant 
to  me;  it  fairly  captivated  me. 

"You  have  had  to  pay  more  for  your  distinction, 
I  observe,  Dr.  de  Wald,"  said  Miss  Tutel,  banter- 
ingly. 

"Have  I,  how  is  that?"  I  asked,  not  under- 
standing. 

"Do  not  pretend  ignorance,  for  you  know  very 
well,"  she  said  reprovingly,  "that  your  name  is 
in  the  newspapers  this  morning." 

"Eh,  what's  that,  name  in  the  newspaper?" 
broke  in  a  voice  from  behind  me.  "What  has 
the  rascal  done?  He  is  one  of  my  men  and  he 
shall  have  to  answer  me  if  he  has  been  up  to 
any  pranks."  It  was  the  president  of  our  col- 
lege, a  man  old  in  years  but  young  in  the  spirit 
of  fun. 

"O,  he  has  done  nothing  bad,"  she  explained, 
"on  the  contrary,  he  lectured  at  the  Central 
Church  yesterday  and  the  lecture  is  reported  in 
the  newspapers." 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  41 

"O,  is  that  all?"  he  said,  immensely  relieved, 
but  there  was  an  amused  twinkle  in  his  eyes  as 
he  scanned  the  paragraph  that  she  indicated 
in  the  paper,  then  having  noticed  that  his  be- 
loved college  had  been  properly  mentioned,  he 
placed  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder  in  a  fatherly 
manner  and  said:  "That  is  all  right  my  boy, 
let  people  know  that  we  are  still  upon  the  earth," 
and  as  he  turned  to  go  he  fired  a  parting  shot  at 
my  companion.  "You  girls  need  not  make  eyes 
at  him  for  he  is  already  wedded — to  science," 
and  he  went  off  chuckling  at  his  own  wit. 

"You  are  a  horrid  tease,"  she  called  after  him 
and  then  turning  to  me  she  said:  "I  should 
have  liked  to  hear  your  lecture,  I  think  it  must 
have  been  very  interesting  and  instructive ;  but 
don't  you  think  you  should  have  told  your 
friends  that  you  were  going  to  speak?"  The 
word  friends  was  significantly  emphasized. 

"Yes,  I  plead  guilty  to  a  serious  sin  of  omission, 
but  it  shall  not  occur  again,  for  I  mean  to  be 
thoughtful  of  my  friends,"  I  answered,  with  the 
emphasis  upon  the  last  word. 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  understandingly,  as  Miss 
Good,  the  post  mistress  approached,  "I  will 
clip  it  out  for  you,  for  I  know  that  you  men  like 
to  preserve  the  paragraphs  which  appear  in  the 
papers  about  you." 

"  Don't  be  sarcastic,  Elga,"  advised  Miss  Good, 
misunderstanding,  as  it  was  intended  that  she 
should.  "It  isn't  nice;  besides,  papa  attended 


42  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

the  lecture  and  he  said  that  it  was  splendid." 
Miss  Tutel  did  not  answer  her  critic,  but 
handed  the  clipping  to  me  with  a  we-under- 
stand-each-other  expression  that  was  quite  in- 
telligible to  me,  and  that  silent  exchange  of 
confidences  sealed  our  friendship  more  than 
spoken  words  could  have  done.  It  was  an 
understanding  too  deep  for  words — direct  com- 
munion of  souls  in  tune,  occurring  instantan- 
eously." 

"Are  you  going  on  either  of  the  excursions 
arranged  for  to-day,  Doctor?"  asked  Miss  Good, 
desiring  to  make  amends  for  her  friend's  sup- 
posed curtness  by  being  nice  to  me  herself. 

"I  had  not  thought  of  it.  What  are  their 
objective  points?"  I  inquired. 

"One  is  to  the  Smelting  Works,  the  other  to 
Swift's  Packing  Houses,"  she  replied  sweetly. 

"A  luncheon  is  to  be  served  at  Swift's  for  the 
visitors,"  added  Miss  Tutel,  maliciously. 

"Not  even  a  luncheon  would  tempt  me  to  go 
to  the  packing  houses;  suffice  it  to  say  that  I 
am  from  Chicago,"  and  I  bowed  to  the  ladies. 

"Why  not  take  a  trolley  trip  across  the  river  to 
Council  Bluffs?  It  is  a  fine  ride,  and  there  is  a 
pretty  little  park  over  there,"  suggested  Miss 
Tutel. 

"I  should  enjoy  that  I  am  sure,"  I  said,  adding 
dejectedly,  "but  it  would  be  no  fun  to  go  alone." 
She  shot  an  inquiring  glance  at  me. 

"I  should  be  pleased  to  go  with  you,  but  I 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  43 

cannot  leave  my  duties,"  she  said  politely. 

"Why,  Elga,  you  can  go  just  as  well  as  not," 
chimed  in  the  accommodating  Miss  Good,  "I 
will  attend  to  your  work  for  you."  Miss  Good 
was  engaged  to  be  married,  and  like  all  engaged 
girls,  wanted  her  friends  to  go  and  do  likewise. 

"I  should  be  delighted  to  have  you  go  with 
me,"  I  said  eagerly,  fearing  lest  she  might 
not  go. 

"Very  well,  then  I  will  go  with  you,"  she  said, 
with  the  emphasis  upon  the  last  word. 

"Thank  you,  you  are  very  kind  to  me,"  I  said 
gratefully,  emphasizing  the  me,  for  I  was  greatly 
pleased.  So  we  arranged  to  go  to  Council 
Bluffs  immediately  after  luncheon,  starting  from 
the  college  building,  and  I  went  off  to  find  a 
quiet  place  in  which  to  read  my  letters  and 
think  over  my  good  fortune  so  soon  to  be  real- 
ized. How  much  the  companionship  of  a  little 
lady  like  yourself,  for  she  was  much  like  you, 
dear  reader,  contributes  to  the  happiness  of  a 
man  like  me! 

The  Institute  work  being  unimportant  and 
less  interesting  than  usual,  I  spent  a  large  part 
of  the  morning  in  an  inspection  tour  to  the 
booths  advertising  physicians'  supplies.  I  took 
an  electrical  treatment,  the  static  machine 
making  my  hair  stand  on  end,  literally;  I 
examined  the  improved  surgical  instruments  and 
chairs;  I  peeped  into  the  latest  medical  books, 
finding  several  that  I  needed  in  my  library; 


44  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

I  tasted  the  various  prepared  foods  until  I  was 
in  danger  of  ruining  my  digestion ;  and  I  sampled 
the  potables  until  I  was  fully  convinced  that 
of  mixed  drinks  there  is  no  end.  Occasionally, 
while  on  my  inspection  tour,  I  passed  the  Post 
Office  and  Information  Bureau,  and  on  one 
such  occasion  Miss  Good  hailed  me. 

"Dr.  de  Wald,  Elga  is  giving  your  pictures 
away  to  the  passers-by  promiscuously,"  she  said, 
mischievously.  I  looked  at  Miss  Tutel  inquir- 
ingly. 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Nora, 
for  it  is  no  such  thing,"  declared  the  accused, 
covered  with  confusion,  notwithstanding  her 
denial.  I  looked  from  one  to  the  other  question- 
ingly,  quite  mystified  by  their  manner. 

"Tell  the  Court,"  and  Miss  Good  assumed  a 
judicial  air,  "Elga  Grace  Tutel,  have  you  or 
have  you  not,  given  this  gentleman's  pictures 
away  to  unknown  parties?  Look  at  him,  well 
remembering  that  you  are  under  oath,  before 
you  answer." 

"Nora,  you  are  tiresome,  not  to  say  foolish," 
retorted  Miss  Tutel,  impatiently. 

"Really,  ladies,"  I  said,  observing  that  things 
were  likely  to  become  serious,  "I  admit  that 
the  matter  is  too  deep  for  me,  will  one  of  you 
kindly  explain?"  and  I  looked  at  my  friend  for 
the  solution  of  the  mystery. 

"There  is  really  nothing  that  needs  explana- 
tion. It  is  some  of  Nora's  nonsense,"  she  said 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  45 

looking  at  her  tormentor  scornfully,  then  going 
over  to  the  table  which  was  piled  full  of  infor- 
mation supplies  and  reading  matter  intended 
for  general  distribution  she  took  thereform  a 
magazine,  "The  Magazine  of  Medicine,"  and 
handed  it  to  me.  The  magazine  contained  a 
halftone  cut  of  myself  accompanying  an  article 
I  had  written  on  "The  Blood  in  Health  and 
Disease."  Now  I  understood. 

"So  the  height  and  front  of  your  offense  is  that 
you  did  your  duty,"  I  said  approvingly,  as  I 
returned  the  magazine  to  its  place. 

"Nora  saw  the  picture  when  I  was  reading 
your  article,"  she  explained  simply,  then  added: 
"It  must  be  very  fascinating  to  study  things 
with  a  microscope,  it  reveals  so  many  of  the 
hidden  mysteries  of  life." 

"Yes,"  I  responded,  pleased  that  she  was  inter- 
ested in  my  pet  subject;  "the  microscope  opens 
the  door  into  another  world,  the  world  of  infi- 
nitely small  things,  where  the  glory  and  handi- 
work of  God  are  declared  and  shown  as  really 
as  by  the  heavens  and  the  firmament." 

"You  are  enthusiastic.  I  shall  ask  you  to  tell 
me  about  it  some  day."  she  said,  impressed  by 
the  burst  of  eloquence. 

"They  say  that  I  am  wedded  to  it,  you  know, 
and  it  is  a  contemptible  bridegroom  who  is  not 
full  of  his  bride's  praises.  I  shall  always  be 
pleased  to  talk  to  you  of  my  science,"  I  replied, 
and  continued  on  my  way  upstairs. 


46  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

The  morning  soon  passed.  The  gong  sounded 
the  luncheon  hour  and  we  trooped  down  the 
stairs,  although  I  had  little  desire  and  less  room 
for  a  meal.  In  the  lower  hall  I  met  Miss  Tutel 
just  setting  out  for  home.  As  I  joined  her  an 
idea  struck  me  and  I  thoughtlessly  acted  upon  it. 

"Will  you  take  luncheon  with  me,  Miss  Tutel?" 
I  asked,  my  brilliant  idea  being  nothing  less 
than  a  tete-a-tet£  luncheon  at  a  little  French 
cafe  of  which  I  knew. 

"O,  no,  I  thank  you,"  she  answered  quickly, 
evidently  surprised,  "I  must  go  home,  mamma 
is  expecting  me."  Our  ways  being  different,  we 
parted  at  the  corner. 

The  invitation,  thoughtless,  but  well  meant, 
might  justly  have  been  resented,  I  knew,  and 
felt  condemned,  both  by  my  conscience  and  her 
gracious  manner.  Men  are  much  alike  and  we 
all  make  the  same  mistakes  in  our  treatment  of 
you  women;  when  you  grant  us  one  favor  we 
selfishly  not  only  expect,  but  demand  more. 
The  promise  to  spend  the  afternoon  with  me 
should  have  satisfied  any  reasonable  man,  but 
I  wanted  her  to  devote  all  of  her  time  to  me, 
apparently.  The  excuse  goes,  but  it  is  not 
sufficient,  when  we  tell  you  that  it  is  because 
we  are  so  fond  of  you.  How  credulous  you  are 
and  what  slaves  you  make  of  yourselves  to  us 
men.  The  shortest  way  to  your  freedom  is  to 
turn  us  down  when  we  make  such  blunders  as 
I  did  in  my  invitation. 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  47 

I  thought  I  should  be  able  to  complete  the 
account  of  the  whole  day  in  this  letter,  but  I 
shall  do  well  if  I  do  it  in  two  letters,  for  the 
afternoon  and  evening,  which  were  full  of  events 
still  remain  to  be  recorded.  In  the  afternoon 
we  went  to  Council  Bluffs  and  in  the  evening 
we  visited  Hanscomb  Park  by  moonlight.  I 
will  reserve  my  account  of  them  for  my  next 
installment,  for  the  present  letter  is  already 
long  enough.  In  a  series  of  letters  which  you 
shall  soon  have  to  read,  they  were  written  to 
another,  I  used  to  limit  myself  to  about  ten 
pages.  This  one  contains  twice  that  number. 
Behold  how  highly  I  honor  you,  my  dear  reader- 

I  find  it  rather  difficult  to  recall  complete 
conversations  after  the  lapse  of  years  and  hope 
that  I  do  so  well  enough  to  make  my  story  full 
enough  for  you  to  understand.  Any  suggestions 
that  you  may  see  fit  to  offer  will  be  religiously 
followed,  for  I  am  writing  expressly  for  you. 
I  am  sincerely, 

Yours  to  command, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

VI. 

OMAHA,  JULY  15,  19 — . 
My  Very  Dear  Friend: — 

I  notice  that  you  write  just  as  often  as  I  do 
and  wonder  if  your  letters  are  offered  as  a  re- 
ward of  merit,  or  as  a  bribe  to  tempt  me  to  write 
often.  In  either  case  they  are  fully  appreciated 


48  THE    FULFILLING    OT    FHE    LAW. 

and  thoroughly  enjoyed.  The  thought  that 
you  could  use  any  but  the  purest  means  to 
secure  a  desired  end  is  impossible  to  me,  Leola, 
for  I  know  and  admire  your  pure,  high-minded, 
frank  nature,  which  is  as  far  from  meanness  as 
Heaven  is  from  Hell.  The  statement  that  Miss 
Tutel  must  have  been  a  lovable  character  is 
generous  and  quite  like  you,  for  it  leads  me  to 
believe  that  what  I  found  in  her  was  not  all 
imaginary  and  I  am  confident  that  what  re- 
mains to  be  said  will  justify  your  intuitive 
judgment. 

Promptly  at  the  appointed  hour,  one-thirty 
o'clock,  my  fellow  excursionist  arrived  at  the 
college  building,  the  trysting  place,  where  I 
was  awaiting  her  in  a  spirit  of  repentance, 
having  made  a  resolution  not  to  repeat  the 
blunder  that  I  had  made  before  luncheon.  If 
she  had  been  offended  by  my  invitation  she 
showed  no  sign  of  it  now,  for  she  was  as  gracious 
as  you  would  be  under  the  same  circumstances, 
my  dear  reader. 

"Here  am  I,"  she  announced,  smiling  pleasant- 
ly, "do  I  look  like  a  professional  guide?" 

"I  am  not  so  sure  about  your  looking  like  a 
guide,  but  you  certainly  look  very  charming," 
I  said,  looking  her  over  admiringly.  She  moved 
toward  the  door,  indicating  that  she  was  ready 
to  go,  apparently  not  displeased  by  the  com- 
pliment, for  she,  like  the  rest  of  us,  liked  to  be 
admired.  Understanding  her  meaning  I  fol- 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  49 

lowed,  willing  at  that  moment  to  go  wheresoever 
she  might  lead. 

"Have  a  good  time,  Elga,  I'll  attend  to  every- 
thing here,"  called  Miss  Good,  sweetly,  as  we 
left  the  room. 

Presently  we  were  upon  the  trolley  car  speed- 
ing away  East  toward  Council  Bluffs.  Doubt- 
less the  landscapes  visible  from  the  car  windows 
were  beautiful  to  see,  but  I  remember  very 
little  of  them,  probably  because  I  saw  very 
little  of  them,  for  I  was  attentively  looking  into 
a  pair  of  windows  turned  up  towards  me.  How- 
ever, I  am  dimly  conscious  of  passing  over  a 
muddy  stream,  the  Missouri  River,  my  guide 
told  me.  When  I  repeated  the  excursion  the 
other  day  for  the  purpose  of  recalling  its  inci- 
dents for  my  letters  to  you,  it  might  have  been 
the  first  time  that  I  had  passed  that  way, 
judging  from  the  newness  of  the  scenery  to  me. 
Her  monopoly  of  my  attention  was  complete. 
The  challenge  she  made  to  me  to  look  at  her 
when  she  entered  the  room  in  the  college  build- 
ing was  still  upon  me  and  I  ceased  not  to  feast 
my  eyes  upon  the  vision  of  brownness  she 
presented.  Evidently  brown  was  her  favorite 
color,  for  she  was  dressed  in  browns  from  the 
tip  of  the  spray  of  autumn  leaves  upon  her 
summer  hat  to  the  toes  of  her  neat  tan  shoes, 
except  her  shirtwaist,  which  was  white,  figured 
with  tiny  sprays  of  rosebuds  tied  with  brown 
bows.  The  charm  of  her  presence,  or  the  ex- 


50  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

hilarating  motion  of  the  car,  went  to  my  head 
like  new  wine,  made  me  throw  off  all  restraints, 
and  give  myself  up  to  her  and  happiness.  I 
know  not  if  I  talked  nonsense,  but  this  I  know, 
I  talked  as  I  felt. 

"Miss  Tutel,  you  strongly  resemble  a  character 
that  I  found  in  a  story  one  day,"  I  said  among 
other  things,  most  of  which  are  lost  to  memory. 

"Do  I?  What  was  she  like?"  she  asked.  "Tell 
me  about  her." 

"I  do  not  recall  her  name  or  the  name  of  the 
story  in  which  she  played  her  part,  but  the 
sweet  character,  like  the  air  of  a  song  has  not 
been  lost  although  I  have  forgotten  the  writer. 
She  was  not  the  principal  character  in  the  story, 
but  she  was  contrasted  with  the  heroine  who 
was  characterized  as  ambitious,  designing  and 
vindictive.  And  while  the  details  of  the  story 
have  been  forgotten,  I  remember  that  the  heroine 
hated  the  little  lady  for  two  reasons,  first,  by 
contrast;  she  emphasized  her  unlovely  char- 
acter, and  then,  what  was  far  worse,  by  her 
winsome,  gentle  womanliness  she  had  uncon- 
sciously won  the  love  of  the  man  that  the  other 
considered  her  exclusive  possession.  Altogether, 
she  was  a  splendid  character,"  I  concluded. 

"I  do  not  see  any  resemblance.  I  am  not  at 
all  like  that,"  declared  my  listener,  "describe 
her  appearance."' 

"O,  I  cannot  do  that,'"'  I  said,  shaking  my  head 
ruefully.  "All  that  I  can.  remember  about  her 


THE    FINDING   OF   A    FRIEND.  51 

appearance  is  suggested  by  the  heroine's  char- 
acterization of  her  as  "a  little  brown  mouse," 
which  probably  also  applied  to  her  character. 
She  made  a  wry  face  at  the  characterization, 
evidently  doubtful  of  its  complimentary  nature. 

"I  do  not  see  the  likeness,"  she  protested. 

"Well,  you  are  modest,  attractive,  and  win 
the  confidence  and  the  affection  of  your  friends," 
I  ventured,  judging  from  my  own  experience 
with  her. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  am  unattractive,  my 
friends  consider  me  cold  and  unsociable,"  she 
replied,  earnestly. 

"Then  it  must  be  because  they  do  not  under- 
stand you,  for  you  are  neither,"  I  insisted, 
warmly. 

"Possibly,"  she  said,  a  wistful  expression 
coming  into  her  face.  I  had  struck  a  sensitive 
chord ;  she  was  misunderstood  and  consequently 
misjudged. 

"Moreover,"  I  continued,  "you  cannot  deny 
that  you  are  brown,  for  that  is  self-evident," 
and  I  looked  her  up  and  down  from  toe  to 
crown. 

"Yes,  I  am  fond  of  browns  and  I  wear  them 
most  of  the  time,"  she  admitted,  her  smiles 
coming  back  again. 

"I  do  not  blame  you,  they  become  you  mighty 
well,"  I  said  gallantly. 

"Do  not  flatter  me  or  I  shall  not  like  you," 
she  said,  decidedly. 


5«  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"I  am  not  flattering  you,  it  is  God's  truth," 
I  declared,  honestly. 

"When  men  flatter  they  are  insincere,  and  I 
hate  deceit/'  and  there  was  finality  in  her 
voice. 

The  guide  was  on  the  alert,  announcing  in 
due  time  that  a  transfer  must  be  made  to  a 
Council  Bluffs'  car,  which  would  take  us  to  the 
park.  The  transfer  was  made  in  the  business 
center  of  the  city,  and  after  a  short  ride  we 
dismounted  at  the  entrance  of  Fairmount  Park. 
The  park  consists  of  a  wooded  dale  among  the 
hills,  and  its  chief  beauty  is  its  naturalness.  It 
appeared  like  a  cluster  of  hills  and  dales  that 
had  been  brought  from  another  country  and 
set  upon  the  prairie  by  a  gigantic  gardener. 
The  park  was  evidently  a  familiar  place  to  my 
guide,  for  she  unhesitatingly  conducted  me  to 
a  picturesque,  grassy  glade  where  we  found  a 
rustic  seat  cozily  situated  under  the  trees.  It 
was  a  beautiful  spot  whose  influence,  together 
with  that  of  the  perfect  day  and  my  charming 
companion,  made  me  supremely  happy. 

"I  think  this  rather  a  pretty  place,"  said  my 
guide,  as  we  seated  ourselves  so  that  we  could 
look  down  the  glade  through  a  vista  of  trees 
and  shrubs. 

"It  must  be  Fairyland  that  you  have  brought 
me  to,"  I  responded,  "and  you  must  be  in 
league  with  the  airy  sprites  since  you  know 
their  haunts." 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  53 

"No  fairies  have  ever  ministered  to  me,  al- 
though I  sometimes  read  fairy  tales  and  wish 
they  would,"  she  said  wistfully.  It  was  plain 
that  some  of  the  hopes  and  longings  of  her 
soul  were  still  unsatisfied. 

I  asked  her  what  else  she  read,  and  she  told 
me  that  she  read  much — nearly  all  of  the  time — 
that  books  were  her  best  friends  and  the  read- 
ing of  them  her  chief  pastime.  The  books  that 
she  loved  were  very  many  and  she  talked  of 
them  freely  and  intelligently,  manifestly  she 
had  read  them  to  some  purpose.  Many  of  her 
favorite  authors  were  also  favorites  of  mine, 
many  choice  passages  from  them  had  been 
admired  and  not  a  few  memorized  by  us  both, 
and  we  recited  them  to  each  other  and  became 
closer  friends  by  reason  of  our  common  love  for 
them.  The  hours  flew  by  like  minutes  as  we 
held  this  conversation,  asked  and  answered 
questions,  first  of  books  and  their  authors, 
then  of  each  other;  it  was  a  season  of  soul 
communion,  the  like  of  which  it  has  seldom 
been  my  good  fortune  to  enjoy.  It  seemed 
perfectly  natural  to  talk  of  ourselves;  we  were 
friends,  and  friends  should  know  about  one 
another.  No  wonder  that  the  shadows  grew 
long  as  we  talked,  for  the  thoughts  of  books 
are  long,  long  thoughts,  and  the  thoughts  of 
life  are  longer  still. 

The  westering  sun  reminded  my  guide  of  her 
office  and  she  proposed  to  take  me  upon  a  high 


54  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

hill  and  show  me  the  kingdom  of  the  world, 
to  be  seen  therefrom.  We  went  farther  up  the 
glade,  past  the  pond  with  its  playing  fountain, 
then  climbed  the  steep  hill  overlooking  the 
country  to  the  southward.  The  prospect  was 
sublime:  in  the  foreground  almost  at  our  feet 
lay  the  city  of  Council  Bluffs,  with  its  burr  of 
business  and  its  moving  trains.  Beyond  that 
were  farms  with  their  fields  and  pastures  dotted 
here  and  there  with  little  patches  of  color,  the 
buildings  and  cattle ;  beyond  them  the  unbroken 
prairie  stretched  away  until  in  the  far  distance 
it  blended  with  the  sky  in  the  hazy  horizon; 
overhead  arched  the  hazy,  blue  vault  of  the 
heavens,  in  the  midst  of  which  hung  the  fiery 
orb  of  day;  and  on  the  summer  breezes  the 
scent  of  new  mown  hay  was  wafted  to  us.  On 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  under  a  scraggy  little  tree 
we  sat  down  to  enjoy  the  scene  at  our  leisure. 
The  immensity  of  the  prairie  grows  upon  one 
like  the  vastness  of  the  ocean  until  it  becomes 
awful,  giving  one  a  feeling  akin  to  fear,  for  it  is 
so  tremendous  as  compared  with  our  insignifi- 
cance. 

Presently  we  were  obliged  to  start  on  our 
homeward  journey  in  order  for  my  guide  to  be 
on  time  at  dinner  for  papa  must  not  be  kept 
waiting.  The  hill  was  very  steep  and  several 
times  I  aided  her  in  making  the  descent;  but 
when  we  were  near  the  bottom  she  gave  me  her 
hand  and  with  a  "Let  us  run/'  led  me  a  chase 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  55 

down  the  incline  to  the  pond,  where  we  fetched 
up,  laughing  like  the  happy  children  that  we 
were.  At  the  pond  we  tarried  a  little  to  feed 
the  geese  with  crumbs  which  the  thoughtful 
guide  had  brought,  explaining  that  it  is  such 
fun  to  watch  them  splash  and  to  hear  them 
scold.  The  dear  girl  made  a  beautiful  picture 
as  she,  with  childlike  glee  fed  the  geese,  her 
brownness,  the  park's  greenness,  the  pond's 
blueness,  and  the  whiteness  of  the  geese,  each 
contributing  its  proper  share;  and  added  to 
this  were  the  motions  and  the  sounds  of  life 
which  no  painter  could  portray.  Proceeding 
more  sedately  on  our  way  from  this  point,  we 
soon  found  ourselves  on  the  car  speeding  home- 
ward, if  not  like  lightning,  at  least  by  lightning. 

"I  like  to  be  your  guide,"  she  remarked  art- 
lessly, as  we  neared  home,  "for  you  understand 
and  appreciate  the  things  that  I  like." 

"And  I  like  you  for  a  guide,"  I  said,  looking 
deeply  into  her  honest  eyes;  "you  have  given 
me  the  happiest  day  of  my  life  and  I  have 
nothing  to  give  you  in  return  but  empty  thanks." 

"The  pleasure  it  gave  me  is  reward  enough," 
she  said  frankly;  then  continued:  "I  should 
like  to  take  you  to  our  Hanscomb  Park  some- 
time. I  am  sure  you  would  enjoy  it,  especially 
by  moonlight." 

"How  would  to-night  do — could  you  go?"  I 
asked  timidly,  ashamed  of  my  selfishness. 

"If  you  wish  to  go,"  she  replied,  simply. 


56  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  we  would  go  and  we 
parted  on  the  street  corner  to  go  to  our  re- 
spective dinners  and  to  meet  again  at  eight 
o'clock  at  her  home;  but,  dear  reader,  I  must 
pray  your  indulgence  and  reserve  the  account 
for  my  next  letter.  If  you  knew  how  hard 
I  have  tried  to  condense  the  story,  I  am  sure 
you  would  praise  the  effort,  if  not, 
Your  devoted, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

VII. 

OMAHA,  JULY  17,  19 — . 
My  Very  Dear  Leola: — 

Your  letters  are  so  much  like  you  that  they 
tempt  me  to  give  up  and  forget  all  else.  Never- 
theless, I  must  hold  firmly  to  my  purpose  to 
write  the  story  first.  The  thoughts  of  you  that 
breed  so  fast  in  my  mind  shall  be  written  later 
when  your  thoughts  are  not  of  other  things 
and  they  can  have  your  whole  attention. 

Promptly  at  eight  I  presented  myself  at  Miss 
Tutel's  home,  finding  her  upon  the  porch  where 
I  seated  myself  near  her.  It  was  a  cozy, 
vine-covered  place  where  she  spent  much  time 
reading.  While  we  sat  there  a  middle-aged 
lady  came  to  the  door  to  speak  to  her  daughter, 
and  I  was  presented  to  Mrs.  Tutel,  who  chatted 
pleasantly  with  us  a  little  while.  When  she 
went  in  Elga  accompanied  her,  returning  almost 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  57 

immediately  with  her  hat  on  and  carrying  her 
gloves,  ready  for  our  excursion. 

The  street  car  line,  which  was  not  far  off, 
quickly  conveyed  us  to  Hanscomb  Park,  which 
we  entered  by  an  approach  that  was  new  to  me. 
The  park  seemed  strangely  different  to  me,  but 
whether  it  was  a  strange  part  of  the  grounds 
or  the  different  circumstances  under  which  I 
went  that  made  the  change,  I  never  knew.  The 
daylight  had  not  faded  when  we  arrived,  and 
we  made  use  of  it  to  visit  Lovers'  Lane,  without 
which  no  self-respecting  park  is  complete.  It 
is  a  pretty  vine-covered  walk,  cool,  leafy,  and 
secluded,  in  which  are  placed  a  number  of 
rustic  seats  that  are  well  patronized.  Near  the 
end  of  the  lane  we  found  a  bench  upon  which 
we  seated  ourselves  to  watch  the  evening  shad- 
ows gathering  under  the  trees  along  the  little 
lake.  The  twilight  comes  late  and  slowly  in 
the  West;  I  have  been  able  to  read  the  face  of 
my  watch  as  late  as  nine-thirty  in  the  evening. 
We  sat  there  for  some  minutes  in  silent  com- 
panionship. 

"Waters  on  a  starry  night  are  beautiful  and 
fair,"  I  quoted  from  Wordsworth,  breaking  the 
silence. 

"The  reflection  of  the  sky  in  the  water  reminds 
me  of  du  Maurier's  description  of  a  Welsh  lake ; 
he  said  that  it  was  like  a  bit  of  sky  that  had  got 
unstuck  and  had  fallen  into  the  landscape, 
shiny  side  up,"  she  responded,  feelingly. 


58  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"By  the  way,  did  you  look  up  that  poem  that 
you  composed?"  I  asked,  remembering  her 
promise  of  the  afternoon. 

"Yes,  but  I  shall  not  repeat  it  to  you  until  you 
have  recited  something  of  your  writing  to  me," 
she  repeated,  positively. 

"My  dear — friend!"  I  protested,  "I  am  a  man 
of  science  and  have  written  nothing  poetical." 

"But  you  said  that  you  had  tried,  and  with 
you  that  means  that  you  succeeded  to  some 
extent,"  she  insisted. 

"You  are  a  tyrant!  a  real  Queen  Bess!"  I  said, 
mocking  her  imperious  air.  "I  only  tried  in 
autograph  albums,  and  they  do  not  count." 

"They  do  count,"  she  declared,  with  mock 
vehemence,  "and  you  be  serious  and  say  one 
of  them  to  me,  or  I  shall  take  you  home  imme- 
diately!" 

"I  am  conquered,"  I  said,  submissively  and 
recited  solemnly: 

AN  ACROSTIC. 
"Always  do  just  what  is  right, 
"Never  ceasing  till  the  night, 
"Nor  forget  God's  perfect  love, 
"And  thy  home  prepared  above; 

"Giving  thanks  to  Him  each  day, 
"Remembering  that  in  His  way, 
"All's  right  and  evermore  shall  be, 
"Full  well,  you  know,  He  loveth  thee." 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  59 

"There,  you  have  my  sole  production,"  I  con- 
cluded. 

"It  sounds  very  religious,"  she  said,  thought- 
fully, "and  it  spells  a  name,  Anna  Graf,  who 
is  she?" 

"O,  she  was  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine,  years 
and  years  ago,  and  she  kept  an  autograph 
album,"  I  answered,  indifferently. 

"Mine  was  written  a  long  time  ago,  also,"  she 
said,  musingly. 

"Yes,  a  long  time  ago,"  I  echoed,  "now  say 
it  to  me." 

"It  is  sentimental,"  she  said,  "perhaps  you  will 
think  it  silly." 

"No,  I  shall  not;  I  like  sentimental  things," 
I  urged. 

"Well,  I  will  tell  it  to  you,  because  I  promised," 
she  said,  resignedly,  "but  please  do  not  laugh 
at  me,"  and  she  recited  in  clear,  musical  tones: 

ONE  SUMMER. 

"Ah,  those  were  the  dear,  happy  days,  sweet- 
heart, 

"Those  days  in  the  long  ago, 
"When  all  was  sunshine  and  brightness,  sweet- 
heart, 

"Before  winter's  gloom  and  snow. 

**********# 

"Oh,  I  shall  never  forget  them,  sweetheart 

"Of  life  they  are  the  best  part, 
"But  I  locked  the  door  and  lost  the  key,  sweet- 
heart, 

"When  I  placed  them  in  my  heart." 


6o  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

The  poem  was  beautiful  to  me;  it  touched  a 
chord  in  my  heart  and  seemed  to  recall  mem- 
ories of  a  far  distant  past.  My  hand  uncon- 
sciously found  hers,  which  lay  at  her  side  as 
she  spoke,  and  my  fingers  closed  around  it, 
making  it  a  willing  prisoner,  for  it  made  no 
effort  to  escape,  but  lay  contentedly  or  un- 
consciously in  mine.  Her  soul  spoke  to  my 
soul  of  another  past  life  where  we  had  known 
each  other  better,  as  she  recited  the  poem,  I 
should  say,  if  I  were  a  Buddhist,  and  believed 
in  reincarnation,  but  as  a  plain  man  of  science 
I  know  not  what  to  say.  I  am  able  to  repro- 
duce only  the  first  and  last  stanzas  of  the  poem 
from  memory,  but  you  shall  find  it  all  in  an- 
other connection,  in  the  letters  to  which  refer- 
ence has  before  been  made. 

"Your  poem  is  very  beautiful,"  I  said,  with 
feeling,  when  she  had  concluded,  "but  why  do 
you  write  as  if  you  were  old,  with  all  happiness 
behind  you?  I  asked,  wondering  what  had 
caused  her  habitual  sadness. 

"O,  because  I  feel  that  way,  I  suppose,"  she 
answered,  with  a  sigh. 

"Well,  you  shouldn't  feel  that  way,  for  you  are 
young  and  have  everything  before  you:  life, 
love,  happiness,  and  the  rest  of  them,"  I  de- 
clared, honestly,  then  added  gaily:  "We  can 
make  our  lives  what  we  will  and  I  mean  to  make 
mine  a  joyful  one,  so  I  will  paraphrase  your 
words,  and  sing: 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  6l 

"Ah,  these  are  the  dear  happy  days  dearheart, 
"These  dear  days  so  bright  and  fair, 

"When  all  is  sunshine  and  gladness,  dearheart, 
"Before  life's  sorrow  and  care. 

There !  behold  what  I  can  do  under  the  inspira- 
tion of  your  muse,"  and  I  gave  the  little  hand 
in  mine  a  friendly  squeeze  which  caused  it  to 
be  taken  away  quietly. 

"You  are  a  man  and  that  makes  a  difference; 
men  should  be  happy  at  their  good  fortune," 
she  responded. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  I  said,  "I  am  praying  to  be 
a  woman  in  my  next  incarnation,  for  I  think 
that  a  woman  is  the  sweetest  and  best  thing  in 
the  world." 

"I  like  your  paraphrase,"  she  said,  changing 
the  subject,  "it  is  better  than  mine." 

"I  like  the  tense  because  it  describes  the  present 
but  your  words  are  more  beautiful.  Will  you 
write  me  a  copy  of  it?"  I  asked. 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered,  slowly,  "if  you  will 
promise  to  rearrange  it  all  for  me." 

"I  promise,"  I  returned,  quickly,  glad  to  ob- 
tain it  so  cheaply. 

The  twilight  having  merged  into  the  darkness 
of  night  and  the  electric  light  with  its  glare  of 
light  and  black  shadows  having  been  turned  on, 
my  guide  conducted  me  to  a  seat  by  the  edge 
of  the  lakelet,  where  we  could  see  the  moon  and 
its  reflection  on  the  water.  How  inky  black 
the  water  looked!  all  save  the  pathway  toward 


62  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

the  moon,  made  by  the  wavelets  throwing  back 
the  moonlight.  There  was  no  one  near;  we 
were  alone  in  the  woods  at  night,  seeing  nothing 
save  the  trees  and  their  fantastic  shadows, 
made  by  the  natural  and  artificial  lights,  and 
hearing  nothing  save  the  songs  of  the  frogs 
and  the  other  voices  of  the  night.  The  solitude 
suited  our  moods;  my  hand  found  hers  again 
and  held  it,  and  we  sat  in  silent  communion, 
the  communion  of  perfect  companionship. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Miss  Elga,"  I 
said,  presently. 

"I  am  thinking  that  we  must  soon  go  home," 
she  said,  evasively,  "but  we  have  not  been  about 
the  park  much,  you  will  not  feel  paid  for  com- 
ing." 

"I  prefer  sitting  and  talking  with  you  to  going 
about,"  I  said. 

"I  fear  that  you  show  poor  taste  in  so  doing," 
she  said,  modestly. 

"I  shall  read  you  a  lecture  on  self  depreciation 
if  you  do  not  stop  belittling  yourself  to  me," 
I  said,  seriously. 

"I  am  a  good-for-nothing  girl!  there,  now 
lecture!  but  you  are  so  kind  and  good  natured 
that  you  could  not  get  cross,"  she  said,  banter- 
ingly. 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  be  cross  to  be  serious, 
and  I  am  serious  and  in  real  earnest,  for  you 
have  honored  me  with  your  friendship,  which 
gives  me  the  right  to  advise  you;  but  whether 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  63 

you  act  upon  my  advice  or  not  is  another  thing. 
The  expected  thing  is  what  happens  to  us,  the 
old  adage  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.     If 
we  expect  little  happiness  we  will  get  little,  and 
if  we  expect  a  low  rating  we  shall  receive  that; 
and  the  converse  is  equally  true.     If  we  expect 
much  we  shall  receive  much,  whether  it  be  of 
riches,  respect,  honor,  or  Heaven.     The  reason 
for  this  is  simple  and  scientific,  namely,  the 
expectation  gives  one  a  self-confidence  that  is 
well  nigh  irresistible  and  renders  success  easy. 
The  men  who  startle  the  world  by  their  achieve- 
ments are  the  men  who  believe  in  themselves." 
"You  talk  as  if  you  really  care  whether  I  suc- 
ceed or  not,"  she  said,  surprised  by  my  earnest- 
ness, "no  one  else  cares.     I  have  always  been 
discouraged  or  ridiculed  when  I  have  wanted  to 
be  or  do  something  worth  while.     I  was  advised 
not  to  get  foolish  notions  into  my  head  and  to 
be  satisfied  to  be  and  do  as  other  women,  which 
means  mediocrity  or  worse,  so  I  have  learned  to 
keep  my  ambitions  to  myself  or  not  to  have 
any.     I  believe  that  women  ought  to  do  things 
as  well   as  men."     She   spoke   vehemently.     I 
had    stirred   the    hidden    fire;     manifestly    her 
ambitions  were  not  quenched,  but  smouldering 
fires. 

"Bravo!  little  friend,  practise  what  you  preach 
and  we  shall  be  proud  of  you,"  I  said,  rising 
and  making  my  best  bow,  as  she  arose,  prepar- 
atory to  going  back  to  town.  She  smiled  and 
took  my  proffered  arm  and  we  were  off. 


64  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"Are  you  tired?"  I  asked  when  we  were  nearly 
home.  "You  have  worked  overtime  to-day 
and  deserve  extra  pay.  Which  shall  it  be,  bon 
bons,  or  flowers?" 

"Neither,"  she  answered,  decidedly,  "I  shall  be 
angry  if  you  offer  me  anything;  as  if  one  must 
be  paid  for  being  hospitable.  You  are  our 
guest,  sir." 

"Pardon  me,  I  had  forgotten,  but  I  shall  seek 
some  acceptable  way  to  requite  your  matchless 
hospitality,"  I  said,  humbly. 

"Take  it  as  it  is  offered,  freely,"  she  said,  as  we 
reached  her  home  and  she  offered  me  both  of 
her  hands  to  say  goodnight. 

The  evening  had  been  the  proper  ending  for 
the  day,  I  thought,  as  I  slowly  went  home, 
feeling  that  I  was  exceedingly  fortunate  to  have 
found  such  a  friend.  Everything  was  changed 
for  me  by  that  find ;  it  was  as  if  I  had  found  the 
pearl  of  great  price;  the  world  and  its  affairs 
had  new  meanings  to  me,  and  living  meant 
larger,  holier  things.  Do  you  understand  what 
I  mean,  Leola  dear?  I  believe  that  you  do  and  I 
am  glad ;  for  it  is  good  to  be  understood.  Women 
complain  at  being  women,  saying  that  they  have 
no  chances  in  life,  when,  if  they  but  knew  it, 
they  influence  every  great  work  that  is  accom- 
plished. What  man  does,  he  does  for  woman. 
You  should  be  glad  that  you  are  a  woman  if 
you  are  the  inspiration  which  gives  hope,  and 
courage,  and  success  to  a  good  man.  In  like 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  65 

manner,  he  should  be  a  happy  man  who  has 
the  loving  inspiration  of  a  good  woman. 
"A  book  story,"  which  you  wanted  my  story 
to  resemble  would  have  contained  more  descrip- 
tive details  of  the  parks,  doubtless,  and  more 
minor  incidents  and  conversations,  but  they  are 
non-essentials,  so  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  they 
have  been  omitted.  When  I  return  to  my  dear 
reader  I  will  take  her  to  the  neighboring  park 
any  day,  or  by  moonlight  if  she  prefers,  and 
explain,  or  illustrate  any  of  the  omitted  details 
upon  which  she  may  want  further  knowledge. 

Hoping  that  this  will  meet  with  your  approval 
and  that  I  shall  soon  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  little  bunch  of  womanliness  to  which  I  am 
writing,  I  am  simply, 

Your  story-teller, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

VIII. 

OMAHA,  JULY  20,  19 — . 
My  Dearest  Friend: — 

The  temptation  is  strong  upon  me  to  call  you 
names,  dear  names/  you  are  so  appreciative, 
kind  and  charming,  but  I  fear  the  consequences. 
I  am  reminded  of  a  certain  lawyer,  who  in  a  fit 
of  feeling  said  to  the  court : 

"Judge,  what  would  you  do  if  I  called  you  a 
fool?" 

"I  would  send  you  to  jail  for  contempt  of 
court/'  replied  the  Judge. 

"Well,  then  I  will  not  say  it,  I  will  just  think 


66  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

it,"  concluded  the  wily  lawyer.  I  shall  follow 
the  lawyer's  example  and  not  say  that  you  are 
the  dearest,  sweetest,  and  best  little  lady  in  all 
the  world,  but  I  will  just  think  it.  Now,  lest 
I  should  yield  to  temptation,  I  will  get  on  with 
my  narration. 

The  last  day  of  my  visit  came  all  too  soon, 
time  waits  not  when  one  is  happy,  although  it 
is  as  slow  as  an  errand  boy  under  other  con- 
ditions. I  arose  early,  which  was  unusual  for 
me  and,  to  fill  the  interim  before  the  college 
building  with  its  attraction  was  visited,  I  went 
for  a  stroll.  On  my  return  I  passed  Mr.  Din- 
egen's  residence  where  we  were  so  royally  enter- 
tained a  few  evenings  before,  and  observing  that 
the  Art  Gallery  was  open  I  went  in  and  found 
Miss  Hyde  alone.  The  visit  was  opportune  and 
she  devoted  a  half  hour  to  me,  showing  and 
talking  of  her  treasures.  The  girl's  reverential 
manner  gave  the  place  the  air  of  a  sacred  shrine, 
and  I  went  away  feeling  as  if  I  had  been  to  a 
devotional  service.  I  never  saw  her  again,  but 
she  sent  me  a  letter  and  some  of  her  sketches 
in  exchange  for  some  prints  that  I  sent  her  and 
later  she  did  a  commission  for  me. 

The  bustle  of  the  day's  business  had  begun 
when  I  arrived  at  the  college  building  and 
appeared  at  the  Post  Office,  where  I  received 
my  mail  and  friendly  greetings  from  the  Misses 
Tutel  and  Good.  The  latter  was  especially  cor- 
dial, suspiciously  so  I  thought. 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  67 

"What  time  did  you  return  from  your  excur- 
sion last  evening,  Dr.  de  Wald?"  innocently. 

"O,  about  dinner  time,"  I  replied,  with  simple 
candor.  Miss  Tutel  shot  me  an  approving 
glance.  "Why?"  I  asked,  indifferently. 

"It  is  so  pleasant  over  there  that  I  thought  you 
might  have  been  tempted  to  stay  and  spend  the 
evening,"  she  answered,  sweetly. 

"Well,  it  was  all  so  beautiful  that  we  were 
sorely  tempted  to  remain,"  I  admitted,  frankly, 
"but  we  remembered  the  admonition  to  yield 
not  to  temptation,  and  came  home  as  I  have 
told  you." 

"I  thought  you  had  stayed,  Elga,  for  I  called 
last  night  and  you  were  not  at  home,"  she  said, 
quite  disarmed  of  her  suspicions. 

"Nora,  you  really  must  not  think  so  much, 
you  will  injure  your  health,"  advised  Miss  Elga, 
with  apparent  concern,  and  I  went  off  to  look 
over  my  mail. 

The  morning  offered  an  opportunity  or  two 
for  me  to  stretch  my  legs  and  it  happened  that 
each  time  they  carried  me  past  the  Information 
Bureau,  where  I  regularly  stopped  to  chat  a 
while.  On  one  such  occasion  I  tarried  after 
the  gong  had  announced  the  reading  of  a  paper, 
preferring  the  chat  to  things  medical,  but  I  was 
not  allowed  to  waste  my  time. 

"You  must  not  miss  the  lecture,"  she  said, 
kindly,  but  firmly,  "you  played  truant  yesterday 
so  you  must  be  very  faithful  to-day." 


68  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"Shall  I  receive  a  reward  if  I  am  very  faith- 
ful?" I  questioned. 

"Perhaps,"  was  all  that  she  said,  but  there  was 
a  promise  in  her  expression  as  I  obediently  went 
up  stairs. 

On  another  such  occasion  I  was  greeted  with 
the  usual  pleasant  smiles  which  were  so  marked 
that  one  of  my  colleagues  who  was  sitting  there 
bantered  me  about  it. 

"Anyone  could  tell  that  you  are  an  unmarried 
man,  de  Wald."  he  said. 

"How  could  they  tell  that?"  I  questioned. 

"Why,  by  the  way  the  ladies  smile  upon  you," 
he  answered,  chuckling. 

"I  will  wager  that  neither  of  these  ladies  know 
whether  I  am  married  or  not,"  I  said,  making 
a  bluff. 

"Really,  I  thought  he  was  wedded,"  said  Miss 
Tutel,  seriously,  "I  heard  the  president  of  his 
college  say  something  to  that  effect." 

"So  did  I,"  chimed  in  Miss  Good,  "it  was 
yesterday  morning." 

The  case  was  strongly  against  my  bantering 
friend,  so  he  sauntered  off  to  a  more  congenial 
companionship . 

"Those  horrid  old  fellows  make  me  tired,"  re- 
marked Miss  Good,  impatiently  after  he  had 
gone. 

"Why  Nora!  You  ought  not  to  say  such  dis- 
respectful things,"  said  Miss  Tutel,  reprovingly. 

"Very  well,   Miss  Propriety,  if  it  hurts  your 


THE    FINDING    OP    A    FRIEND.  69 

sensitive  soul  I  will  not  do  so  any  more,"  re- 
plied Nora,  sweetly. 

"You  are  a  dear  girl  and  I  know  that  you  do 
not  mean  anything  by  it,  but  it  sounds  dread- 
ful/' explained  Elga. 

"There  is  nothing  good  about  me  but  my  name, 
and  I  am  going  to  change  that,"  was  the  re- 
sponse, then  she  added:  "Get  on  your  hat  and 
go  to  luncheon,  Elga.  Dr.  de  Wald  is  waiting 
for  you  and  is  getting  impatient.  He  has 
looked  at  his  watch  twice  within  as  many  min- 
utes." 

"Miss  Good,  you  are  a  mind  reader,'11  I  con- 
fessed, as  Miss  Tutel  obediently  prepared  to  go 
with  me. 

"It  does  not  require  any  mind  reading  to  tell 
what  is  the  matter  with  you,"  she  responded, 
confidentially,  when  Elga  was  out  of  hearing. 

The  walk  to  the  corner,  extended  by  permis- 
sion a  block  or  two  up  Davenport  Avenue,  was 
on  account  of  my  reward  for  being  very  faithful 
to  the  proceedings  of  the  Institute.  However, 
the  walk,  like  most  of  our  experiences  in  this 
world,  was  made  up  of  both  joy  and  disappoint- 
ment, as  I  shortly  learned.  The  joy  of  her  com- 
pany was  so  great  that  it  made  me  selfish, 
which  sharpened  the  edge  of  my  disappointment 
when  I  was  deprived  of  her  companionship. 
"There  is  to  be  a  session  of  the  Institute  to- 
night," remarked  my  companion,  carelessly,  as  it 
seemed  to  me. 


70  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"But  you  will  not  have  to  attend,"  I  exclaimed, 
in  alarm. 

"I  fear  that  I  shall,"  she  said,  evenly  and  left 
me  on  the  corner  to  my  thoughts.  The  thoughts 
that  I  indulged  in  for  a  few  moments  were,  to 
say  the  least,  unpleasant,  for  I  had  dreamed 
of  spending  one  more  evening  with  her  as  a 
guide  before  awaking  from  my  trance.  Doubt- 
less you  will  smile  as  you  read  it,  but  I  went  to 
luncheon  utterly  disconsolate,  feeling  that  I  was 
dreadfully  abused.  How  very  much  like  spoiled 
children  we  are  at  times!  I  said  we,  my  dear 
reader,  but  I  suppose  that  you  would  bear  dis- 
appointment better. 

I  was  hard  hit,  but  my  philosophy  forced  me 
to  make  as  much  as  I  could  out  of  what  re- 
mained, so  I  went  about  as  if  there  was  nothing 
but  happiness  in  the  world.  Early  in  the  after- 
noon I  found  my  way  to  the  Information  Bureau 
seeking  writing  materials,  which  were  generously 
furnished,  together  with  an  invitation  to  use 
part  of  her  table  as  a  desk.  It  was  such  a 
generous  offer  and  so  graciously  made  that  I 
could  not  decline  it,  so  I  seated  myself  and  be- 
gan to  write  diligently.  After  a  little  while  my 
diligence  waned,  my  writing  became  fitful  and 
I  joined  in  the  general  conversation.  So,  writ- 
ing a  little  and  talking  a  good  deal,  I  spent  the 
best  part  of  an  hour  which  might  have  been 
spent  more  profitably  in  the  lecture  hall  above. 
All  of  the  writing  that  I  had  accomplished  was 
the  following  brief  note: 


THE  FINDING  OF  A  FRIEND.  71 

OMAHA,  JUNE  28,  1898. 
My  Little  Brown  Mouse: 

My  letter- writing  is  a  hoax,  it  is  just  a  scheme 
by  which  I  may  spend  my  spare  time  near  the 
little  mouse.  It  is  rather  a  foolish  thing  to  do, 
but  it  is  as  pleasant  as  it  is  foolish.  If  I  did  not 
guess  myself  welcome  I'd  stay  away,  but  you 
have  shown  yourself  so  friendly  that  I  have 
been  quite  charmed,  and  it  would  be  a  hardship 
if  I  were  compelled  to  go  elsewhere.  I  shall 
long  remember  and  often  think  of  your  bright 
eyes  and  pleasant  smile  when  far  away  from 
you.  And  I  look  forward  with  pleasure  to  the 
fulfillment  of  your  generous  promise  to  write  to 
me  sometimes. 

In  a  former  incarnation  it  may  be  that  we 
were  acquainted.  If  so,  it  must  have  been  a 
pleasant  friendship  and  it  is  quite  the  proper 
thing  to  renew  it.  These  friendly  attractions 
are  very  beautiful  and  the  common  sympathies 
strange  and  interesting.  It  is  these  things  that 
strengthen  the  bonds  of  lasting  friendship. 

I  shall  want  the  daily  papers  of  Thursday  and 
Friday  morning  and  shall  trust  to  your  kindness 
to  send  them  to  me. 

You  will  be  lenient  and  forgive  my  little 
scheme  and  continue  to  be  my  little  brown 
mousie,  I  most  sincerely  hope. 

I  am  faithfully, 
VAL. 

Having  deliberately  folded  the  note,  placed  it 


72  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

in  an  envelope,  and  carefully  sealed  the  same, 
I  thus  superscribed  it:  "Miss  L.  B.  Mouse, 
Addressed,"  and  made  as  if  I  was  about  to  go. 

"Dr.  de  Wald,  let  me  stamp  and  mail  your 
letter,  1  am  going  to  the  box  directly,"  said 
Miss  Good,  who  had  been  eyeing  the  letter  sus- 
piciously. 

"Thank  you  but  it  is  not  going  by  post,"  I 
replied,  pleasantly,  "it  is  for  a  party  in  the  build- 
ing and  I  am  leaving  it  at  the  Information 
Bureau,"  and  I  pushed  the  letter  across  the 
table  carelessly  to  Miss  Tutel.  That  young  lady 
having  read  the  superscription,  quietly  took  pos- 
session of  the  missive,  shooting  me  a  glance  of 
inquiry  the  while.  Under  her  breath  she 
asked : 

"Is  it  for  me,  shall  I  read  it?"  but  aloud  she 
said,  politely,  "I  shall  attend  to  it  for  you, 
Doctor." 

"Yes,  I  thought  you  would,"  I  said  and  went 
up-stairs. 

The  remainder  of  the  afternoon  I  was  fully 
occupied  with  affairs  of  the  Institute,  having 
to  read  a  paper  and  discuss  another,  so  it  was 
rot  until  the  close  of  the  session  that  I  saw  my 
f-iends  below  stairs  again.  I  will  not  tire  you 
with  reports  of  my  paper  or  my  discussion,  for 
they  would  be  tiresome  to  you,  dearest  reader 
by  reason  of  their  technical  characters,  besides 
they  have  been  published  in  full  in  the  Trans- 
actions of  the  Institute,  where  you  may  find 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  73 

and  read  them  at  your  leisure.  A  pleasant  sur- 
prise awaited  me  when  I  went  below.  I  saw  it 
first  in  the  eyes  of  my  guide,  and  then  heard  it 
from  her  lips.  Whether  my  note  had  any  in- 
fluence in  bringing  about  the  change  of  her 
arrangement  I  know  not,  but  I  imagine  that  it 
had  considerable.  At  any  rate,  after  leaving 
directions  with  Miss  Good  for  the  disposal  of 
any  mail  that  might  arrive  after  my  departure, 
I  went  over  to  the  Information  Bureau,  knowing 
that  she  had  something  pleasant  to  communi- 
cate. 

"I  have  arranged  so  that  I  need  not  come  down 
here  this  evening/'  she  said  simply,  but  I  knew 
that  she  had  done  it  for  me,  that  it  was  my 
reward. 

"And  you  will  be  my  guide  again?"  I  asked, 
delighted  at  the  prospect. 

"Yes,  if  you  want  me,"  she  replied,  honestly. 

"I  certainly  want  you  and  shall  call  for  you  at 
eight  o'clock,"  I  assured  her  and  hurried  off  to 
arrange  for  my  departure  northward  in  the  early 
morning  of  the  following  day.  How  pleasant 
was  the  prospect  of  another  evening  with  her ! 

The  evening  was  as  pleasant  as  the  prospect, 
as  will  appear  from  my  next  letter  which  will  be 
the  last  of  my  prelude.  A  package  of  old  letters 
which  will  continue  my  story  will  accompany 
the  letter.  I  will  give  you  a  few  hints  about 
reading  them. 

With  great  respect,  I  am,  dear  Leola, 
Devotedly, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


74  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

IX. 

OMAHA,  JULY  22,  19 — . 
Leola,  Dearie: — 

I  am  to  be  detained  here  ten  days  longer,  and 
not  even  the  dainty  missives  you  send  quite 
make  up  for  the  disappointment  that  I  feel  at 
being  away  from  the  charming  specimen  of  the 
noblest  work  of  God  whom  you  know  better 
than  I  do,  but  do  not  admire  so  much.  The 
delay  will  enable  me  to  complete  my  narration 
in  writing,  which  is  doubtless  the  best  way, 
although  I  had  expected  latterly  to  finish  it  by 
word  of  mouth,  for  good  and  sufficient  reasons 
which  I  dare  not  write  to  you  at  this  moment, 
however,  you  shall  know  them  in  due  time. 

The  town  clock  was  striking  the  hour  as  I 
approached  the  Tutel  residence  that  evening, 
and  found  the  daughter  of  the  house  in  her 
favorite  chair  on  the  porch.  She  was  hatted 
and  gloved  and  ready  to  start,  so  we  set  out 
immediately  on  our  excursion  of  sight-seeing, 
so-called,  but  it  would  better  have  been  called 
by  another  name,  which  I  shall  trust  you,  dear 
reader,  to  supply  as  you  read. 

"I  have  an  errand  to  do  while  we  are  out," 
said  my  guide,  displaying  a  book  that  she  car- 
ried, "let  us  go  to  the  Public  Library  and  leave 
this  book  first,  it  is  not  far  away." 

"Very  well,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  see  the  home 
of  your  friends,  the  books,"  I  said,  gaily,  but  it 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  75 

made  little  difference  to  me  where  I  went  pro- 
vided only  that  it  was  in  her  company.  The 
building  proved  to  be  a  substantial,  commodious 
structure  of  which  she  was  justly  proud. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  this  building,"  she  said, 
sincerely  as  we  entered  it  ,"  for  I  have  spent  so 
many  happy  hours  here." 

"It  is  a  handsome  building,"  I  said,  looking 
about  admiringly  as  she  went  off  to  deposit  her 
book.  A  further  inspection  only  served  to  con- 
firm my  first  impression.  I  was  most  interested 
when  she  pointed  out  the  place  where  she  was 
accustomed  to  sit  and  study,  for  the  same  reason 
that  makes  me  care  about  things  that  vou  do 
and  say,  dearie. 

After  an  extended  stroll,  during  which  my 
guide  faithfully  pointed  out  palatial  residences 
and  public  buildings  of  special  interest,  she 
proposed  that  we  should  go  to  Capitol  Hill  to  a 
pretty  place  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  overlooking 
the  Exposition  grounds.  No  objection  being 
offered,  the  proposition  was  acted  upon  and 
presently  we  preempted  the  pretty  place  under 
the  trees.  The  guide  seated  herself  upon  a 
grassy  seat,  the  back  of  which  was  formed  by 
the  trunk  of  one  of  the  trees.  I  essayed  to  do 
likewise,  but  the  tree  was  too  small  for  two 
unless  we  sat  back  to  back,  which  was  out  of 
the  question,  so  I  sat  and  leaned  my  face  against 
her  sleeve.  Seated  thus,  we  viewed  the  Expo- 
sition outlined  in  fire  a  mile  or  so  to  the  north, 


76  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

the  lights  of  the  city  lying  nearer  and  overhead 
the  dark  vaulted  heaven  spangled  with  count- 
less stars.  Long  at  the  scene  in  silent  content- 
ment we  gazed,  nor  marked  the  flight  of  time 
until  the  town  clock  pealed  out  the  hour  of  ten. 
Nor  did  I  spend  all  of  the  time  on  distant 
scenes,  for  there  was  a  near-by  object,  whose 
hand  I  held  which  was  to  me  more  attractive 
by  far.  I  placed  the  palm  against  my  cheek  and 
I  kissed  the  pretty  prisoner  a  dozen  times,  surrep- 
titiously, for  fear  that  I  should  frighten  the 
dainty  thing  away.  What  my  companion 
thought  I  do  not  know,Leola,  you  are  a  woman, 
and,  doubtless  can  imagine.  I  shall  ask  you  to 
tell  me  some  day.  How  would  you  have  felt? 

"Is  it  so  late?  I  shall  have  to  go  home  in  half 
an  hour,"  she  said,  sadly  I  thought,  as  the  hour 
was  tolled. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  I  said,"  and  we  have  made  no 
plans,  except  to  write." 

"I  shall  be  your  guide  to  the  Exposition,"  she 
volunteered,  hopefully,  "you  will  enjoy  visiting 
that  when  you  return." 

"True,  you  are  my  guide  and  shall  have  full 
charge  of  my  entertainment,"  I  said,  pleased 
with  the  prospect  of  being  much  with  her. 

"The  Institute  will  have  closed  and  I  shall  be 
able  to  devote  more  time  to  you,"  she  added, 
thoughtfully. 

"You  are  a  generous  little  friend,"  I  said, 
patting  her  cheek  playfully. 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  77 

"I  like  to  know  that  I  am  of  service  to  some- 
one," she  said,  and  I  knew  that  she  was  think- 
ing of  the  emptiness  of  her  present  life. 

"You  have  been  of  great  service  to  me  and  I 
am  sure  your  future  will  be  full  of  usefulness," 
I  assured  her. 

"It  is  good  to  be  understood  and  encouraged," 
she  returned,  gratefully. 

"I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  given  me  the 
opportunity,  to  do  so,"  I  said,  earnestly. 

"No  one  else  has  ever  tried  to  understand  me; 
it  has  not  been  worth  while,  so  I  have  never  made 
any  confidants,"  she  continued,  seriously. 

"It  has  been  well  worth  my  while,"  I  confessed. 

"You  are  so  good,  strong,  and  wise  that  it  is 
easy  to  talk  freely  to  you,  besides,  you  appre- 
ciate my  ambitions  and  aspirations,"  she  ex- 
plained, simply. 

"Yes,  our  friendship  is  very  pleasant  and  help- 
ful to  me,  really  I  feel  as  though  we  had  been 
friends  for  years  instead  of  days,"  I  admitted. 

"It  seems  that  way  to  me  also  and  I  have 
wondered  if  the  incarnation  theory  were  true  in 
our  case,"  she  mused,  but  half  aloud. 

"Evidences  such  as  these  are  the  best  that  are 
offered  in  its  defense,"  I  said. 

"Doesn't  it  seem  strange  that  we  perhaps, 
were  once  friends  in  the  long  ago,"  she  con- 
tinued, musingly. 

"In  that  case  your  poem  would  refer  to  that 
old  friendship?"  I  asked. 

"Perhaps,"  she  assented. 


78  THE    FULFITLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"I  felt  that  it  was  addressed  to  me  when  you 
repeated  it  -for  me  last  night,  that  is  why  I 
objected  to  the  use  of  the  past  tense,"  I  de- 
clared. 

"It  was  not  addressed  to  anyone,  I  just  felt 
impelled  to  write  it  that  way,"  she  said  and 
then  added,  thoughtfully,  "  I  cannot  understand 
such  things." 

"No  one  fully  understands  them,  my  dear — 
friend,"  I  stated,  "they  are  too  deep  for  us  to 
fathom." 

"I  feel  so  hemmed  in, — it  is  so  disheartening," 
she  said,  raising  her  arms  above  her  head  as  if 
to  throw  off  some  restraint,  "I  want  to  know 
and  do  things." 

"You  shall  know  and  do  things,  dear  friend," 
I  prophesied,  encouragingly,  "  no  ambitious  soul 
can  be  wholly  restrained  from  accomplishing 
its  aspirations.  Be  ready  when  the  opportuni- 
ties come  to  you."  The  clock  tolled  the  half 
hour. 

"Let  us  be  going,"  she  said,  rising. 

"Let  us  say  farewell  here,"  I  suggested,  "per- 
haps you  will  kiss  me  here  under  the  trees,  but 
you  would  not  at  the  gate."  As  I  spoke  my 
face  was  close  to  hers  and  my  lips  lightly  pressed 
her  cheek,  as  she  said : 

"No,  don't  you  think  I  have  been  pretty  good 
to  you? 

"You  have  been  an  angel  of  goodness,  little 
one,"  I  murmured,  as  we  went  homeward  under 
the  trees,  hand  in  hand. 


THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND.  79 

The  walk  home  which  was  not  far  was  accom- 
plished almost  in  silence.  The  last  words  had 
been  said,  for  the  most  part,  so  our  habit  of 
silent  companionship  asserted  itself.  What  need 
was  there  for  words  where  there  was  a  harmony 
of  thought  ?  A  little  pressure  of  the  hand  spoke 
volumes.  I  have  observed,  dear  reader,  that 
when  the  heart  is  fullest  we  say  the  least;  so 
silently  we  reached  the  gate.  Here  she  turned 
her  sweet,  sad  face  toward  me,  the  electric  light 
falling  full  upon  it,  and  said: 

"We  might  sit  for  a  little  while  upon  the  porch, 
it  is  not  eleven  yet,"  but  she  said  it  simply  to 
be  polite.  The  expressive  face  whose  likeness 
I  still  carry  in  my  memory  said  that  she  was 
sorry  to  lose  her  new  friend. 

"No,  I  had  better  go  now,"  I  said  simply,  but 
I  saw  that  she  knew  what  I  meant  and  I  was 
glad. 

"Then  good  night,"  she  said,  heartily  extending 
her  hand ;  in  the  other  hand  she  carried  her  hat 
and  gloves. 

"Good  night,"  I  echoed,  grasping  the  extended 
hand,  taking  a  last,  fond  look  into  her  upturned 
face,  which  I  longed  to  cover  with  kisses,  then 
I  left  her  and  walked  slowly  away  homeward. 
Little  thought  we  that  last  happy  night  that  the 
days  would  grow  into  years  ere  we  met  again. 
And  the  meeting,  how  different!  Fortunately 
the  future  is  hidden  from  us,  shielding  us  from 
many  a  heartache. 


go  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

So  we  parted,  dearest  reader,  and  here  ends 
the  first  part  of  my  story.  The  second  part  will 
be  told  to  you  by  a  little  package  of  letters 
which  were  written  to  Miss  Elga  Grace  Tutel, 
from  the  places  and  at  the  dates  indicated 
thereon  and  which  are  sent  to  you  herewith. 
They  cover  a  period  of  nearly  two  years,  for 
me,  years  of  mixed  feelings  ranging  over  the 
gamut  of  the  human  heart.  As  you  read,  your 
sympathetic  soul  will  feel  the  joy  and  sorrow, 
the  surprise  and  disappointment  that  I  felt  when 
I  wrote  them.  Read  them  as  though  they  were 
written  to  you,  dearie,  so  that  you  may  know, 
and  some  day  tell  me  how  a  pure-souled,  large- 
hearted  woman  would  feel  at  receiving  them. 
Where  these  letters  leave  off  I  will  take  up  the 
story  and  write  the  third  part,  the  Postlude. 

Am  I  not  very  good  to  my  little  reader?  No- 
tice how  often  I  have  written — I  mean — sent 
installments.  Count  the  pages  and  pages  of  this 
installment.  What  magazine  treats  its  readers 
half  so  well?  And  my  generosity  is  not  yet 
exhausted;  some  day  I  mean  to  do  more  and 
better.  Can  you  guess  how?  Perhaps  you  can. 
I  know  that  you  could  if  you  were  as  wise  as  you 
are  pure,  good  and  winsome.  Time  solves  all 
riddles. 

I  wish  that  I  might  watch  your  face  as  you 
read,  for  it  would  tell  me  what  your  soul  thinks 
of  your 

Admiring, 

VAL  DE  W. 


PART  II. 


THE  INTERLUDE. 

How  real  they  seem  as  now  I  dream 

Those  dear  days  o'er  and  o'er, 
I  see  each  place  and  your  fair  face, 

Just  as  in  days  of  yore; 
Would  we  regret,  if  we  had  met 

When  I  went  back  again, 
Hoping  to  find — ah,  love  is  blind! — 

Who  knows  what  might  have  been? 

I  see  you  still  upon  the  hill 

Where  we  said  our  last  farewell, 
As  friends  oft  do  in  words  so  few, 

Words  feelings  cannot  tell; 
So,  my  dreaming  time  is  any  time 

When  I  may  dream  of  you, 
Some  nights  I  dream,  some  days  I  dream, 

And  would  my  dreams  were  true. 
(See  Musical  Score,  page  11) 


81 


LETTERS  WRITTEN  TO  A 
FRIEND 

A. 

MITCHELL,  JULY  i,  1898. 
Dear  Little  Brown  Mouse: — 

Three  long,  hot  days  have  passed  since  we 
said  "good  bye,"  but  no  word  has  come  from 
you.  Do  you  miss  your  new-found  "comrade 
of  a  former  life"?  The  days  have  seemed  long 
to  me.  I  went  to  the  Post  Office,  hoping, 
and  tonight  fully  expecting  to  find  some  word 
from  you,  but  my  hopes  were  vain  and  my 
expectations  fell  to  the  ground,  causing  great 
disappointment.  The  disappointment  has  grown 
into  a  strange  loneliness  and  to  ward  it 
off  I  have  thought  I  would  write  and  talk  on 
paper  to  you,  while  the  wind  dashes  the  rain 
against  the  windows. 

Long,  very  long,  1  shall  remember  the  pleasant 
chats  we  had  together,  while  I  was  in  your  enter- 
prising city.  I  am  glad  that  I  am  soon  to  go 
back  there,  for  I  find  it  exceedingly  dull  here. 
To  be  sure  I  am  most  happy  to  visit  my  parents 
and  brother,  but  I  miss  the  noise  and  bustle  of 
the  large  city.  It  was  pleasant  to  find  them  all 
well,  but  the  passing  years  have  fallen  heavily 

83 


84  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

upon  my  parents  and  I  can  but  realize  that  they 
are  "old  folks"  now.  It  was  a  pleasant  surprise 
to  them  to  have  me  walk  in  unannounced  and  I 
feel  well  paid  for  all  of  the  effort  it  has  cost  me 
to  come  and  is  costing  me  to  remain.  They  have 
never  heard  me  deliver  an  address,  so  it  has 
been  arranged  for  me  to  speak  on  Sunday  night 
in  the  church;  also  to  lecture  some  evening 
next  week.  I  wish  that  you  also  might  hear 
me,  for  then  I  could  see  you.  You  see  that  I 
am  selfish  in  the  matter. 

It  now  looks  as  though  it  would  be  impossible 
for  me  to  get  back  to  Omaha  by  Wednesday 
as  planned,  for  the  trains  all  run  in  the  day  time 
out  of  this  burgh,  and  I  cannot  well  leave 
earlier  than  Tuesday,  for  I  am  obliged  to  stop 
over  to  see  my  brother  who  lives  in  an  adjoining 
county.  So  I  have  decided  to  cancel  my  date 
at  Chicago,  for  I  want  to  stop  over  on  my  re- 
turn to  Omaha,  for  a  day  or  two.  I  remember 
that  you  have  an  engagement  for  next  Wednes- 
day evening  and  that  has  influenced  me  in  my 
plans,  for  I  am  dependent  on  my  former  guide. 

The  journey  here  was  long  and  monotonous 
and  required  the  whole  day  for  its  completion. 
Only  one  or  two  incidents  were  worthy  of  re- 
cording or  recounting  to  others.  One  was  taken 
as  an  omen  of  good  fortune.  A  bridal  party 
entered  the  car  at  a  little  station  in  Iowa.  They 
occupied  the  seat  next  behind  mine,  and  as  the 
train  pulled  out  a  shower  of  rice  was  thrown 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO   A    FRIEND.  85 

through  the  window  by  the  friends  outside,  of 
which  as  much  rained  on  me  as  upon  the  happy 
pair.  I  would  like  to  share  my  good  luck  with 
you  so  I  enclose  a  few  grains  of  rice  which  I 
picked  up  and  saved  for  the  purpose.  May  it 
act  as  a  charm  to  protect  you  from  harm  and 
bring  abundant  happiness  to  you. 

Many  thoughts  crowd  into  my  mind  and  seek 
place  in  this  letter  but  I  refrain  from  writing 
them.  Other  days  may  offer  ample  opportunity 
for  their  expression. 

Tis  bedtime  and  the  gusty  wind  keeps  on 
but  my  lonliness  is  gone.  While  talking  to  you 
it  has  taken  its  flight.  I'll  go  to  bed  now  and 
sleep,  and  perchance  I'll  dream  of  the  Little 
Brown  Mouse. 

Good  night,  may  He  who  loves  us  watch  over 
you. 

Sleepily,  but  heartily, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 

B. 

MITCHELL,  SUNDAY,  JULY  3,  1898. 
My  Dear  Friend: — 

Need  I  say  that  your  letter  was  gladly  re- 
ceived ?  I  think  not ;  but  I  must  confess  that  I 
am  not  a  little  puzzled  by  some  things  you  say 
in  it,  especially  by  your  request  not  to  call  upon 
you  when  I  return.  However,  you  have  not 
told  me  not  to  write,  and  possibly  you  do  not 
mean  all  that  your  letter  implies,  so  I  shall 
write  you  a  little  letter  and  ask  you  to  be  plain 


86  THE    FULFILLING   OF    THE    LAW. 

and  frank  with  me.  You  may  be  sure  that 
while  I  prize  your  company  and  friendship 
greatly,  I  would  rather  make  any  possible  sac- 
rifice than  cause  you  the  least  annoyance.  There 
is  a  mysterious  sympathy  between  us,  that  to 
me  is  helpful  and  pleasant.  I  hoped  that  it 
might  grow  into  a  lasting  and  mutually  helpful 
friendship.  The  fear  that  some  unknown  reason 
exists  which  renders  this,  to  me  most  desirable 
result,  impossible  or  unwise  has  made  me  very 
blue,  or  as  you  say  "solemn."  I  cannot  imagine 
whom  you  have  offended,  nor  do  I  know  of  any 
mistakes  that  you  have  made.  To  me  you  have 
been,  and  I  sincerely  hope  always  will  be,  all 
that  is  good,  gracious  and  womanly.  I  am 
naturally  something  of  a  recluse,  thinking  more 
of  my  books  and  study  than  of  society;  only 
rarely  have  I  found  a  person  whose  tastes  and 
habits  have  drawn  out  my  best  qualities.  You 
are  such  a  one,  and  so  our  meeting  was  exceed- 
ingly pleasant,  to  me  at  least.  My  great  loss 
was  that  I  never  had  a  sister  of  companionable 
age  to  share  my  thoughts  and  encourage  my 
ambitions.  I  believe  the  companionship  of  a 
pure,  noble  minded  woman  to  be  the  greatest 
power  on  earth  to  uplift  and  ennoble  man.  So 
do  not  blame  me  if  I  have  appeared  over  anxious 
to  secure  your  highly  valued  friendship,  and 
done  or  said  anything  unusual  or  unwise. 

My  promise  to  speak  to-night  still  holds,  but 
I  do  not  feel  in  the  mood  to  say  comforting 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  87 

things  to  others.     Indeed,  I  am  needing  them 
myself  more  than  any  to  whom  I  expect  to 
speak,  but  they  must  not  know  it. 
A  poet  asks  the  following  questions: 

"Is  it  true,    0,   Christ  in  Heaven,  that  the 

strongest  suffer  most, 
"That  the  noblest  wander  farthest,  and  most 

hopelessly  are  lost, 
"That  the  mark  of  rank  in  nature  is  capacity 

for  pain, 
"That  the  anguish  of  the  singer  marks  the 

sweetness  of  the  strain?" 

MONDAY  A.  M. 

Father  wanted  me  to  go  with  him  for  a  drive 
so  your  letter  was  left  unfinished. 

My  appointment  at  the  church  was  duly  filled 
and  now  I  am  glad  that  I  had  self-denial  enough 
to  do  as  my  parents  wished.  They  sat  and 
listened  with  wet  eyes  and  glad  faces  as  I  spoke 
and  afterwards  said  that  they  were  proud  of 
me.  God  bless  them!  I  may  not  have  them 
long  to  please,  so  must  do  so  now. 

Your  "mascot"  is  sorry  that  your  luck  left 
you  and  hopes  it  has  returned,  if  not  of  itself, 
with  the  grains  of  rice  that  brought  a  promise 
of  future  happiness  to  me.  I  feel  that  somehow 
I  was  the  cause  of  some  of  your  troubles  so  I 
am  glad  you  tell  me  of  them;  but  it  pains  me 
deeply  to  think  that  any  thoughtless  act  of  mine 
caused  you  trouble. 

Many  thanks  for  the  paper  containing  the 
reports  of  the  closing  of  the  American  Medical 
Institute.  I  hope  your  bureau  accounts  bal- 


88  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

anced   and  you  received  the  thanks   of  your 
patrons  which  you  merited. 

My  plans  are  as  follows:  To-day  we  drive 
into  the  country;  to-morrow  night  I  lecture  here 
upon  a  medical  topic;  Wednesday  we  drive 
across  the  country  to  my  brother's,  some  seventy 
miles  and  I  shall  leave  his  home  for  Omaha 
Thursday  morning,  hoping  to  arrive  there  in 
the  evening. 

I  should  like  to  see  you  before  I  return  to 
Chicago,  if  it  is  possible,  for  I  have  some  things 
to  say  to  you  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  write. 
So  will  you  kindly  write  your  wishes  in  the 
matter  and  command  me  as  you  will,  knowing 
that  I  will  do  as  you  wish.  I  shall  probably 
remain  in  Omaha  until  Saturday  night  so  if 
you  plan  anything  I  am  atyour  service. 

Address  me  at  the  general  delivery,  Omaha, 
and  I  will  call  for  your  letter  Friday  morning. 

Hoping  to  see  you  at  least  once  more,  I  am, 
Your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

C. 

CHICAGO,  JULY  14,  1898. 
My  Dear  Friend: — 

Say  "au  revoir"  and  not  "good  bye,"  for  it 
is  impossible  that  fate  should  be  so  cruel  as  to 
keep  us  apart  forever.  I  have  read  and  re-read 
your  letters,  hoping  to  find  that,  after  all,  I 
had  mistaken  your  meaning:  but  no,  they  are 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  89 

too  fatally  plain  to  be  misunderstood.  The 
drowning  man  catches  at  a  straw,  so  do  not  be 
surprised  that  I  look  eagerly  for  and  strive  to 
lay  hold  of  something — anything  that  may  pre- 
vent my  loss  of  your  helpful  influence.  I  want 
to  obey  your  instructions,  but  it  is  too  much  to 
expect  me  to  give  you  up  without  a  protest  and 
an  effort  to  avert  the  gloomy  prospect  of  for- 
ever losing  my  dear  friend. 

If  this  must  be  my  last  letter  to  you  it  will 
of  necessity  be  rather  long,  for  so  many  things 
crowd  into  my  mind  that  I  ought  to  say  before 
my  final  "good  bye"  and  "God  bless  you!" 
However,  I  have  not  lost  hope  that  you  will 
write  to  me  sometimes  and  let  me  know  where 
and  how  you  are.  I  know  that  you  who  were 
my  guide,  so  faithful  and  trustworthy,  once, 
will  not  leave  me  utterly  if  it  is  possible  to  avoid 
it.  You  have  said  you  are  my  friend,  and 
friendship  is  not  a  meaningless  term.  It  is  born 
of  God,  nor  time  nor  circumstances  can  change 
it  to  a  lessening.  It  must  be  mutual  growth, 
increasing  trust,  widening  faith,  enduring  pati- 
ence, forgiving  love,  unselfish  ambition,  and  an 
affection  built  before  the  throne,  which  will 
bear  the  test  of  time  and  trial." 

Your  self-sacrifice  and  loyal  obedience  to  your 
nameless  advisor  is  most  beautiful  to  see  and  I 
am  proud  of  you,  my  friend,  for  it;  but  we  do 
not  live  unto  ourselves  and  we  have  duties  that 
are  real  obligations,  to  more  than  one  individual. 


90  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Beside,  it  is  possible  for  one  who  is  very  con- 
scientious and  wishes  to  be  self-denying  to  go 
too  far.  You  have  a  beautiful,  strong  and 
competent  mind  and  are  capable,  nay  are 
bound  to  think  for  yourself.  You  are  no  longer 
a  child.  Put  away  childish  notions!  It  is  a 
sin  and  a  shame  for  you  to  keep  your  ideas  and 
thoughts  to  yourself  and  try  to  crowd  yourself 
into  the  narrow  limits  prescribed  by  one  who 
still  considers  you  a  child  and  may  never  dis- 
cover that  the  great  miracle  worker,  Time,  has 
metamorphosed  the  child  into  a  glorious  woman, 
with  all  of  the  sublime  possibilities  appertaining 
to  that  exalted  state.  If  I  speak  strongly  it  is 
because  I  feel  deeply  and  it  is  no  selfish  interest, 
but  a  true  friendship  that  prompts  me  to  care 
about  you  and  your  affairs,  and  protest  against 
what  appears  to  me  to  be  unfair  and  detrimental 
to  your  welfare  and  happiness,  not  to  say  use- 
fulness. 

In  the  name  of  all  that  is  sacred  I  beg  of  you 
to  make  the  most  of  yourself.  Be  broad;  be 
noble;  be  true;  and  do  not  circumscribe  or 
limit  any  of  your  God-given  powers.  I  wish 
you  might  know  all  that  is  in  my  heart,  but 
words  fail  me.  Even  you  would  not  believe 
how  deep  the  roots  of  our  friendship  have  struck 
down  into  my  soul,  and  how  much  I  care  for 
your  future  welfare  and  happiness. 

It  is  true  you  have  your  life  to  live,  but  not 
necessarily  there,  in  the  present  quiet,  unevent- 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  QI 

ful  way,  for  as  water  finds  its  level  so  do  we 
find  our  places  in  life.  In  all  probability  you 
will  some  day,  somewhere  meet  one  whom  you 
will  delight  to  love,  and  with  one  of  your  whole- 
souled  character  no  distance  will  be  too  far  to 
follow,  and  no  sacrifice  too  great  to  make  for 
him. 

Let  me  say  with  the  poet: 

"May  the  one  you  choose  for  life, 
"Be  as  true-hearted  as  his  wife." 

I  am  glad  to  know  that  it  was  not  your  father 
or  mother  who  objected  to  our  friendship,  for  I 
have  such  a  pleasant  memory  of  your  gracious, 
friendly  mother  as  I  saw  her  in  the  gloaming, 
and  beside,  you  told  me  such  nice  things  about 
her.  It  is  just  as  well  that  I  do  not  know  who 
the  objector  is,  for  I  might  misjudge  and  wrong 
him,  for  it  is  impossible  to  quite  put  one's-self  in 
another's  place.  I  now  think  it  is  unselfish  and 
supposedly  for  your  good  that  he  has  passed 
the  sentence.  Let  us  measure  each  other  with 
the  Golden  Rule. 

What  more  shall  I  say?  What  has  time  to 
do  with  friendship?  It  cannot  be  measured  by 
the  ticks  of  time ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  like 
the  regeneration  of  the  soul,  by  His  interpo- 
sition, does  not  take  long  to  make  us  "new 
creatures."  I  am  glad  that  we  both  know  what 
it  means.  Dry  den  says: 

"Friendship,  of  itself,  a  holy  tie, 
"Is  made  more  sacred  by  adversity." 

So  let  it  be  in  our  lives. 


92  THE  FULFILLING  OF  THE   LAW. 

You  ask  what  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  do.  I 
would  not  if  I  could  let  you  fade  from  my  mind. 
If  I  should  live  as  long  as  the  patriarchs  of  old, 
I  could  never  forget  that  once  I  met  a  woman 
after  my  own  heart.  We  have  ideals,  many  of 
which  are  never  realized,  but  in  this  instance 
mine  has  been  and  naturally  I  treasure  it  up 
as  a  beautiful  memory,  to  be  recalled  again  and 
again  in  my  rather  lonely  life.  A  picture  of  the 
"Little  Brown  Mouse"  has  been  hung  upon  the 
walls  of  my  memory,  and  it  shall  never  be  wil- 
lingly removed  or  replaced;  none  can  take  that 
from  me.  This  with  the  knowledge  that  you 
would  be  my  friend  if  you  could  shall  be  my 
valued  possession  until — who  knows  the  end? 

Had  an  opportunity  offered  I  meant  to  have 
told  you  many  things,  among  them  the  story 
of  my  life ;  an  uninteresting  but  rather  sad  story ; 
it  would  have  shown  you  why  I  so  gladly  wel- 
comed your  sympathy  and  friendship,  and  have 
explained  how  much  it  meant  to  me.  Now 
you  will  never  know,  but  I  hope  you  will,  never- 
theless, let  your  woman's  intuition  supply  what 
is  wanting. 

After  all  these  words  I  am  in  despair  of  making 
myself  understood.  It  was  so  cruel  that  I  could 
not  have  held  your  hand  and  looked  into  your 
bright  eyes  and  said  farewell.  Then  you  would 
have  understood,  and  there  would  have  been 
no  need  of  this  attempt  to  say  what  cannot  be 
said  in  written  words. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  93 

My  plans  were  carried  out  as  stated  in  my 
letter  from  Mitchell.  I  lectured  Tuesday  night, 
drove  to  my  brother's  Wednesday,  and  arrived 
in  Omaha  Thursday  at  eight-thirty  in  the  even- 
ing. I  spent  an  hour  on  Capitol  Hill,  by  the 
tree  where  we  sat  that  last  night  and  about 
ten  o'clock  passed  by  your  home  to  the  hotel 
and  turned  in.  In  the  morning  (Friday)  I  got 
your  letter,  and — I  shall  not  try  to  tell  you  how 
I  felt  and  what  I  did  and  thought.  I  am  very 
human,  as  was  shown,  and  the  details  would 
only  distress  you;  and  may  God  do  so  to  me 
and  more  also  if  I  ever  willingly  cause  you  pain ! 
You  are  a  sensitive  woman  and  know  how  I 
felt.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the  world  had  changed 
while  I  was  in  the  post  office  those  few  minutes. 
I  went  to  the  railway  ticket  office  and  found 
that  there  was  no  train  that  would  take  me 
home  until  five  P.  M.,  so  I  spent  the  longest  day 
that  I  have  known  wandering  about  your  city. 
Near  noon  an  idea  struck  me  that  was  not  a  little 
comfort,  and  I  carried  it  out  by  visiting  all  of 
the  places  that  you  and  I  went  to  together. 
I  went  to  Council  BlufTs  and  sat  upon  our  seat 
in  the  park,  climbed  the  Bluff  and  sat  under 
the  scraggy  tree  upon  its  side.  I  went  to  the 
library  and  then  to  Hanscomb  Park.  It  called 
up  many  memories  of  you,  and  those  memories, 
together  with  a  little  experience  I  had  made  me 
almost  happy.  I  sat  with  closed  eyes  upon 
the  old  rustic  seat  near  the  pond  in  the  park, 


94  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

when  suddenly  you  appeared  to  me  and  smiled 
upon  me  as  in  a  vision.  It  must  have  been  that 
you  were  thinking  of  me  and  I  felt  it — was  it 
so?  We  know  that  telepathy  is  a  reality  and 
that  explains  my  experience,  for, 

"Thoughts  need  not  the  wings  of  words, 
"To  fly  to  any  goal;  like  subtle  lightning's 
"Not  like  birds,  they  speed  from  soul  to  soul." 
Enough  of  this,  suffice  it  to  say  that  I  was  on 
the  train  a  half  hour  before  time  for  it  to  start. 
At  last  it  started  and  brought  me  safely  into 
Chicago  Saturday  morning.     Since  then  I  have 
tried  to  keep  too  busy  to  think,  but  sometimes 
thoughts  come  unbidden  and  now  and  then  a 
sad,  sweet  face,  with  deep,  brown,  serious  eyes 
appears  before  my  mind's  eye.     So  here  I  am 
at  home  and  have  gotten  back  richer  than  when 
I  left ;  richer  in  experience. 

At  first  I  thought  I  would  not  write,  but 
somehow  I  have  gotten  to  feeling  that  you  expect 
me  to,  no  doubt,  because  I  want  to.  Before  I 
have  done  I  must  claim  the  fulfillment  of  your 
promise;  that  you  would  send  me  your  photo- 
graph when  taken;  that  you  would  write  out 
and  send  me  some  of  your  writings,  including 
those  verses  you  recited  to  me;  and  that  you 
would  sometimes  write  to  me  if  possible.  In  re- 
turn, I  shall  keep  my  promises;  (do  you  remem- 
ber our  talk  about  promises?)  to  send  my  photo, 
story  books  and  a  dog;  to  write  to  you  and  send 
any  papers  and  journals  in  which  appeared  any 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO   A    FRIEND.  95 

of  my  writings.  You  must  advise  me  about  my 
promises,  else  I  dare  not  send  them,  lest  they 
cause  you  trouble.  What  kind  and  how  large 
a  dog  do  you  want?  Shall  I  get  a  puppy  so  that 
you  can  train  him?  If  you  do  not  write  I  am 
to  send  the  parrot  as  a  punishment.  Your 
mother  was  witness  to  this  last  arrangement, 
and  it  would  be  just;  so  beware.  The  Bible 
says,  "Beware  of  dogs,"  but  I  say,  "Beware  of 
the  parrot." 

One  word  I  have  not  said.  (I'll  think  of 
many  more  after  the  letter  has  gone).  The 
only  objection  urged  against  our  friendship  was 
time.  Time  flies,  so  he  will  soon  remove  that 
and  then — ?  I  shall  continually  thank  God 
that  he  made  woman  next  to  the  angels  and 
that  you  are  one  of  them.  I  have  always  held 
woman  in  great  respect,  as  beings  above  us 
men,  because  I  honor  my  mother  and  sister — 
now  I  have  another  reason. 

How  shall  I  say  farewell?  You  know  how 
I  said  it  once,  and  now  let  the  memory  of  that 
be  my  farewell.  You  will  understand  what  I 
cannot  write.  How  can  one  write  down  a 
hand-clasp,  and  an  aching  heart? 

God  bless  and  keep  you  till  we  meet  again, 
and  after  that  may  he  keep  us  both. 

Once  and  always 

Your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


96  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

D. 

CHICAGO,  AUGUST  15,  1898. 
My  Dear,  Dear  Friend: — 

What  shall  I  say  to  make  you  understand 
how  happy  your  letter  has  made  me?  I  am 
sure  you  would  feel  fully  justified  in  breaking 
your  unwilling  promise,  if  you  knew.  To  my- 
self I've  kept  repeating  the  beautiful  words  of 
the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  "Weeping  may  endure 
for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 
I  have  read  and  reread  your  letter  until  I've 
almost  felt  your  presence,  and  I  have  closed 
my  eyes  and  looked  at  the  picture  I  have  of 
you  in  my  memory,  and  then  I  have  understood 
and  have  tried  to  appreciate  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  which  prompted  your  letter.  I  do  not 
pretend  that  it  was  wholly  unexpected,  for  that 
would  be  untrue.  I  felt  that,  with  a  person  of 
your  loyal  character,  sooner  or  later,  you  would 
speak  out  if  you  had  formed  an  abiding  friend- 
ship for  me.  I  confess  that  I  tried  to  doubt 
you  but  I  could  not.  Ever,  deep  down  in  my 
heart,  I  knew  you  were  worthy  and  loyal  and 
you  have  proved  it;  and  now  from  the  depths 
of  my  heart  I  thank  you,  my  sweet  little  friend, 
and  I  shall  try  to  be  worthy  of  your  confidence 
and  trust. 

I  do  not  fear  for  my  ideal,  I  simply  recog- 
nized it  when  I  saw  it.  It  will  not  vanish  into 
thin  air  as  you  suggest  that  it  may.  It  is  a 
realized  ideal — a  fact.  I  do  not  look  for  per- 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  97 

fection  in  this  life ;  if  I  did  I  should  not  find  it, 
for  all  things  here  are  transient  and  perishable. 
Perfection  is  eternal.  It  is  true  that  I  have  a 
high  opinion  of  you  and  that  I  expect  much  of 
you,  but  it  is  simply  because  I  have  understood 
and  appreciated  you.  We  all  learn  to  love  and 
respect  those  whom  we  know  to  be  good  and 
noble.  Those  whom  we  look  up  to.  Some- 
times we  make  mistakes  and  set  up  idols  of  wood 
and  stone  and  they  are  likely  to  fall  upon  us 
and  crush  us;  but  we  are  created  worshippers, 
and  happy  is  he  who  finds  an  object  worthy  of 
his  devotion! 

It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  you  too  feel  that 
our  friendship  is  worth  cultivating  and  find  it 
hard  to  give  it  up.  God  bless  you  for  saying 
so !  Yes,  I  can  and  do  have  for  you  this  enduring 
patience  and  forgiving  love  of  which  you  speak, 
and  trust  that  sometime  our  friendship  may 
prove  to  be  all  we  hoped  and  expected.  But  I 
confess  that  I  do  not  like  that  word  "sometime," 
it  is  too  indefinite.  Why  may  the  friendship 
not  at  least  begin  now,  and  then  if  it  is  true,  as 
some  one,  (George  Washington)  has  said,  "True 
friendship  is  a  plant  of  slow  growth,  and  must 
undergo  and  withstand  the  shock  of  adversity 
before  it  is  entitled  to  the  appellation,"  it  will 
sooner  reach  the  hoped  and  expected.  The 
plant  has  taken  root  in  my  heart  and  I  mean  to 
watch  and  care  for  it  and  let  it  grow. 

That  my  words  have  touched  and  helped  you 


98  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

is  pleasant  to  know,  but  it  could  hardly  be  other- 
wise in  your  case,  for  your  sensitive  mind  would 
be  sure  to  recognize  the  deep  feelings  that  in- 
spired them.  You  call  my  poor  letter  "beau- 
tiful." Perhaps  there  were  glimpses  of  beauty 
in  it,  for  there  are  times  in  our  lives  when  we 
become  eloquent  as  when  we  feel  that  we  are 
about  to  lose  some  precious  object.  That  was 
one  of  those  times  with  me  and  words  failed  me 
to  make  myself  fully  understood.  I  feared  it  was 
my  last  letter  to  you  else  I  should  not  have 
written  as  I  did  and  what  I  did.  I  wanted  you 
to  know  how  I  felt.  It  is  very  likely  that  I 
shall  not  write  any  more  beautiful  letters,  but 
I  shall  write  the  best  I  can  and  hope  that  will 
suffice.  The  knowledge  that  you  are  to  write 
to  me  when  you  feel  like  talking  to  me  is  very 
precious,  and  I  have  caught  myself  several 
times  hoping  that  you  might  very  often  feel  like 
doing  so.  Your  letters  will  be  impatiently 
waited  for.  Humour  me  as  often  as  you  can. 

Do  not  be  careless  of  your  promises,  you  can 
not  do  that  and  be  true  to  yourself;  and  if  you 
are  true  to  yourself  you  cannot  be  false  to  any- 
one else.  Where  the  fault  lies  in  most  broken 
promises  is  in  their  making.  We  have  not  com- 
prehended what  they  involve,  and  to  fulfill 
them  we  must  do  what  is  impossible.  I  have 
not  blamed  you  for  breaking  your  promises  to 
me,  for  I  know  I  had  no  right  to  ask  them  of 
you;  and  yet  I  feel  that  it  is  due  me  that  you 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  99 

should  at  least  break  one  to  some  one  else  to 
favor  me,  especially  when  that  one  was  quite 
as  unreasonable  as  any  that  I  exacted.  You'll 
find  I'm  just  as  quick  to  condemn  a  fault  as  to 
praise  a  virtue.  However,  I  shall  try  to  be 
fair  with  and  helpful  to  you  and  hope  you  will 
be  so  with  me. 

You  will  doubtless  soon  master  the  art  of 
stenography,  and  become  expert  in  it,  for  it 
only  requires  faithful  work  to  succeed.  No  one 
can  deny  the  practicability  of  knowledge  in 
that  direction,  whatever  they  may  think  or  say 
of  other  kinds  which  we  value  highly.  I  have 
noticed  a  disposition  in  many  people  to  belittle 
what  they  have  failed  to  attain,  and  it  is  doubt- 
less because  they  do  not  appreciate  its  value. 
The  best  thing  about  such  knowledge  is  that  it 
makes  us  more  self-reliant  and  renders  us  self- 
supporting  when  necessary,  and  so  I  think  you 
wise  in  your  choice. 

Yes,  I  do  really  want  those  poems  you  prom- 
ised me,  and  I  think  I  shall  have  to  scold  you  if 
you  persist  in  belittling  yourself  and  your  writ- 
ings. The  idea  of  your  "amounting  to  so 
little!"  You  amount  to  so  much  that  I  am 
proud  to  call  you  friend,  and  assure  you  that  I 
know  no  woman  of  your  age,  who  is  more  highly 
cultured.  I  bow  before  you,  not  only  as  my 
equal,  but  as  my  superior  in  many  respects,  and 
I  am  glad  to  have  a  friend  to  whom  I  can  look 
up. 


100  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

A  lady  patient  and  friend  of  mine  has  prom- 
ised to  give  me  a  very  fine  dog,  a  thoroughbred 
Cocker  spaniel,  (see  his  picture  in  the  Standard 
Dictionary),  and  I  hope  I  may  send  him  to 
your  mother  if  not  to  you.  I  remember  that  my 
promise  to  send  a  dog  was  made  to  both  of  you, 
and  if  she  is  willing  I  will  send  him  to  her,  and 
if  later  she  should  want  to  present  the  dog  to 
her  daughter,  or  anyone  else,  of  course  she 
could  do  so.  For  the  present  I  shall  leave 
Polly,  the  parrot,  with  friends,  where  she  has 
been  visiting  for  some  months  past.  Kindly 
advise  me  soon  about  the  dog,  as  he  is  likely  to 
be  brought  to  me  at  any  time  and  I  have  no 
conveniences  for  keeping  him. 

Take  good  care  of  my  Little  Brown  Mouse. 
I  shall  hold  you  accountable  for  her  welfare. 
I  wish  I  could  see  her!  It  seems  so  long  since 
I  saw  her  last.  Don't  forget  to  send  me  her 
picture.  God  bless  you,  dear  one ! 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

E. 

CHICAGO,  AUGUST  18,  1898. 
Dear  Little  Brown  Mouse : — 

A  few  days  ago  I  wrote  to  your  mistress  and 
told  her  to  take  good  care  of  you,  but  I  did  not 
send  any  message  to  you;  so  now  I  shall  write 
to  you  and  ask  you  to  deliver  a  little  message 
to  her.  Will  you  do  it,  Little  Mousie? 

Two  things  I  wish  to  send  word  about :     First, 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  IOI 

the  dog  that  I  promised  her  has  been  brought 
over  and  is  now  lying  peacefully  at  my  feet.  I 
have  spent  the  past  hour  making  friends  with 
him  so  that  he  would  stop  crying  for  his  late 
mistress.  I  have  won  his  confidence  and  we 
are  friends.  I  wish  to  know  if  I  am  to  keep 
him  here  or  send  him  to  a  new  home  in  the  West. 
Now,  Mousie,  please  find  out  for  me  and  let  me 
know  as  soon  as  you  can. 

Second,  I  enclose  a  little  paper,  the  report  of 
some  remarks  that  I  made  at  the  American 
Medical  Institute,  which  have  been  sent  to  me 
for  approval  or  correction.  Your  mistress  said 
that  I  must  always  send  her  my  writings  and  in 
a  sense  that  includes  this  fragment.  You  might 
tell  her  that  I  doubt  if  she  will  understand  this 
bit  of  discussion,  however,  she  shall  have  it. 
Please  forward  it  to  its  destination  in  the  en- 
closed envelope. 

Quite  a  long  message  for  a  Little  Mousie  to 
deliver,  isn't  it?  However,  you  are  not  an 
ordinary  mousie,  you  know,  and  must  expect 
large  tasks  to  be  imposed  upon  you.  The  ser- 
vice you  undertook,  and  did  so  well,  at  the 
Medical  Institute  may  be  the  beginning  of  a 
larger  usefulness.  The  little  things  of  life  often 
act  as  the  hinges  upon  which  great  events  swing. 
Our  meeting  there  will  be  an  influence  in  two 
lives  that  will  work  itself  out  in  the  future,  for 
good  or  for  ill.  I  thought  I  had  caught  and 
carried  you  away  with  me,  for  I  discovered  that 


102  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

you  had  found  your  way  into  my  heart.  But  it 
was  only  the  image  of  the  Little  Brown  Mouse 
that  I  found  when  I  made  a  more  careful  search. 
It  is  good  to  have  so  much! 

You  were  a  very  kind  Little  Mousie  to  me 
while  I  visited  your  city,  and  I  shall  long  grate- 
fully remember  the  excursions  we  made.  Some- 
times, I  think  it  must  all  be  a  dream;  but  I 
know  it  is  not  for  I  have  three  letters  from 
some  one  whom  you  know  better  than  I  do,  and 
I  read  them  and  know  it  is  real. 

I  shall  look  for  your  reply  soon,  so  be  a  good 
Mousie  and  find  out  and  tell  me  what  I  want  to 
know.  Try  to  coax  your  mistress  to  send  for 
the  dog.  I  am  sure  he  would  please  her  and 
be  good  company  for  you.  He  is  nearly  full 
grown,  but  is  not  yet  a  year  old  and  is  hand- 
somer than  the  picture  in  the  dictionary. 

I  hope  he  will  soon  learn  to  love  and  protect 
you. 

Good  night,  Mousie,  dear, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

F. 

CHICAGO,  AUGUST  21,  1898. 
Dear  Little  Friend: — 

You  have  made  both  doggie  and  me  very 
happy;  me  by  accepting  my  little  gift,  and  him 
by  taking  him  for  your  own,  to  pet  and  to  train 
until    he    will    become    your   faithful    servant. 
There  is  no  doubt  but  that  he  will  soon  forget  his 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  103 

former  mistress  and  me  too — he  would  not  be 
showing  good  sense  if  he  did  not. 

He  needs  training  and  is  of  the  right  age  to 
be  taught.  I  know  but  little  about  dogs  or 
their  proper  education,  so  can  give  few  pointers 
for  your  aid.  Perhaps  you  do  not  need  any; 
but  what  I  have  learned  of  him  may  be  of  service 
to  you  in  training  him.  He  has  been  allowed  to 
make  friends  with  everybody,  and  play  with  a 
lot  of  children.  This  has  been  bad  for  him. 

What  is  true  of  man  is  true  of  dogs.  It  is  bad 
to  have  too  many  intimate  friends.  The  saying: 
"Be  friendly  with  all  men  but  be  intimate  with 
few"  is  a  wise  one  and  we  should  profit  by  it. 
You  must  limit  his  friendships  and  he  will  make 
a  good  watch  dog.  He  should  be  taught  to 
mind.  A  little  firmness  and  patience  will  make 
him  understand.  I  shall  not  venture  further 
suggestions;  if  you  wish  them  you  must  ask 
for  them. 

He  has  no  name,  so  we  shall  have  to  christen 
him.  But  before  I  make  any  suggestions  I 
want  to  know  your  taste,  and  have  you  indicate 
your  wish  in  the  matter.  You  are  the  person 
most  concerned,  and  may  find  out  that  the 
question,  "What's  in  a  name?"  is  far  reaching 
in  its  significance.  Indeed,  often  everything  is 
in  a  name.  "Give  a  dog  a  bad  name — "  I  have 
forgotten  the  rest,  but  probably  you  know  it. 
Doubtless  the  result  would  be  disastrous. 

He  has  no  collar  but  I  have  his  size  and  will 


104  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW, 

get  him  one  after  we  have  decided  what  to  name 
him,  for  I  want  his  name  engraven  upon  it  with 
any  data  you  may  desire. 

We  have  been  talking,  doggie  and  I,  about  his 
new  mistress  and  future  home.  I  have  told  him 
a  lot  of  things  about  the  Little  Brown  Mouse, 
and  he  has  understood,  and  promised  to  be 
good  to  her.  He  is  sitting  here  and  watching 
me  as  I  write,  and  I  have  asked  him  if  he  has 
any  message  to  send  to  his  little  mistress  and 
he  says : 

"Yes,"  and  as  near  as  I  can  get  his  message, 
he  says :  "I  am  glad  that  she  wants  me  and  that 
she  is  going  to  be  good  to  me.  I  know  I 
shall  love  her  and  be  very  proud  to  be  her  dog. 
I  should  like  to  have  her  name  on  my  collar,  so 
that  people  and  other  dogs  may  know  that  I 
belong  to  her.  It  would  be  nice  to  have  some- 
thing like  this :  '  I  am  Miss  Tutel's  dog.  Whose 
dog  are  you?'  Don't  you  think  that  would  be 
cute?  I  am  lonely  here  with  you,  for  you  go 
away  so  often  and  stay  so  long  and  leave  me 
here  all  alone,  and  I  am  sure  that  she  would 
take  me  with  her  sometimes.  My  fleas  are 
nearly  gone,  and  as  soon  as  they  are  all  gone  I 
am  going  out  to  be  with  her.  I  don't  mind 
getting  washed,  and  did  not  cry  at  all  last 
night,  although  I  was  in  the  bathtub  ever  so 
long.  I  hope  there  are  no  fleas  out  in  my  new 
home.  I  don't  like  fleas,  for  I  can't  catch  them. 
I  am  not  a  thoroughbred  dog,  as  you  told  her 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  105 

I  was,  but  I  don't  care  if  she  likes  me,  and  I 
hope  she  will." 

You  are  quite  right.  It  is  possible  for  people 
to  know  too  much  of  other  people's  business. 
This  is  one  of  the  cases  where  "Ignorance  is 
bliss."  No  one  need  know  where  you  got  the 
dog.  You  sent  to  Chicago  for  him;  let  that 
suffice. 

What  a  lot  of  questions !  Let  me  count  them 
— nine;  but  one  of  them  is  a  double  one — ten. 
Well,  I  am  very  glad  to  have  you  ask  them,  for 
it  shows  that  you  are  interested;  but  as  this  is 
only  a  note  about  the  dog,  I  shall  only  answer 
what  applies  to  him,  and  leave  the  others  for 
another  day  when  I  want  to  chat  with  you. 
Will  that  do? 

I  shall  send  him  on  Tuesday  afternoon,  so 
that  he  will  arrive  in  the  morning  on  Wednes- 
day. You  must  tell  me  if  you  are  disappointed 
in  him.  What  have  you  pictured  him  to  be 
like?  Large  or  small,  black  or  white? 

Now  I  ought  to  scold  you  for  allowing  my 
little  Mousie  to  take  cold.  My  poor  little 
Mousie!  I  am  so  sorry,  and  hope  she  is  better 
ere  this.  I  am  sure  I'd  be  more  careful  of  her 
if  I  were  there  to  watch  over  her. 

I  shall  not  ask  you  to  be  my  guide  to  the  more 
beautiful  spot  that  I  must  visit,  but  how  shall 
I  find  it  unless  you  go  with  me  ?  Sometime  you 
shall  not  be  afraid  to  promise.  Now,  it  does 
not  matter,  for  I  cannot  go. 


106  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

What  a  little  flatterer  you  are!  You  will 
certainly  make  me  vain  if  you  keep  on.  Not 
even  you,  little  girl,  can  make  me  believe  that 
my  letters  are  all  beautiful.  I  might  have 
thought  that  one  might  have  been,  but  more? 
That  is  impossible.  And  yet,  I  am  truly  glad 
if  they  seem  so  to  you.  Shall  I  confess  that 
your  letters  are  beautiful  to  me?  It  is  really 
so,  and  I  understand  how  you  feel. 

There  are  some  things  I  want  to  say  to  you 
in  reply  to  your  letter,  but  I  dare  not  begin  on 
them  to-night,  for  they  are  long,  long  thoughts ; 
and  there  are  a  lot  of  questions  I  want  to  ask 
the  Little  Brown  Mouse — things  I  want  her  to 
tell  me  about  you.  You  see,  she  can  tell  me 
what  you  might  not  like  to  write  about  yourself. 
Do  you  think  she  would  write  answers  to  some 
questions?  She  is  such  a  sweet,  kind  little 
Mousie,  I  have  hoped  she  would.  It  is  not 
mere  curiosity  that  prompts  the  questions,  but 
the  more  I  know  of  you  the  better  I  shall  feel 
that  I  know  you,  and  I  want  to  know  you  well. 
You  said  in  one  letter  that  if  I  knew  you  better 
I  might  like  you  less.  I  "think  the  reverse  will 
be  true.  At  any  rate  I  should  like  to  put  it 
to  the  test. 

I  shall  expect  the  letter  soon,  and  until  then 
hope  to  be  thought  of  as  your  "only  friend  in 
Chicago." 

Good-night — sweet  dreams.  "He  giveth  his 
beloved  sleep." 

Faithfully, 

V.  DE  W. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  107 

G. 

CHICAGO,  AUGUST  28,  1898. 
Dear  Little  Mousie: — 

It  is  pleasant  to  get  such  good  reports  as  your 
note  brought  me  a  couple  of  days  ago,  and  I 
rejoice  with  you  both;  with  you,  because  you 
have  a  pet  that  just  suits  you,  and  with  doggie 
because  he  has  a  mistress  that  just  suits  him. 
You  are  a  fortunate  pair,  for  it  is  seldom  that 
both  parties  to  a  contract  are  entirely  satisfied. 
I  told  him  that  he  would  be  proud  of  you,  and 
told  him  that  he  ought  to  be. 

I  hardly  know  what  to  say  about  the  name. 
"The  Link"  was  a  happy  suggestion  of  your 
mother's,  and  it  was  certainly  very  nice  of  her 
to  help  us  out;  and  yet,  I  rather  favor  the  name 
"Freckles."  It  is  so  appropriate  to  the  animal; 
for  even  if  he  is  an  "aristocratic"  dog,  he  has 
freckles  on  his  nose — like  someone  else  whom 
we  know.  However,  any  name  that  you  like 
will  please  me.  In  fact,  I  am  so  glad  that  he 
suits  you,  that  I  am  almost  indifferent  about 
the  minor  points.  I  am  sure  he  will  serve  as 
a  reminder  of  your  humble  servant,  even  if  you 
do  not  call  him  "The  Link."  The  bond  is  no 
less  real  that  holds  us  in  our  pleasant  friendship, 
if  it  is  invisible.  And  then,  if  after  all,  you  are 
forced  to  give  me  up,  the  name  would  have  to 
be  changed,  or  possibly  become  an  unpleasant 
suggestion  to  you.  No,  call  him  anything  but 
"The  Link." 


I08  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  you  should  have 
known  what  sort  of  an  appearing  dog  he  was 
before  seeing  him,  when  I  recall  the  several 
instances  of  thought  transference  that  have 
passed  between  us.  Between  minds  in  sympa- 
thetic accord  there  is  always  a  transference  of 
thoughts.  The  recognition  and  interpretation 
of  the  messages  alone  is  rare.  The  world  is  now 
striving  to  reduce  telepathy  to  an  exact  science, 
and  will  doubtless  soon  do  so. 

If  you  were  here  I  should  hold  you  responsible 
for  the  damage  done  by  your  dog.  Last  Sunday 
I  left  him  in  my  den  while  I  went  to  take  dinner 
with  some  friends.  What  did  he  do?  I  will 
tell  you.  He  pulled  a  pair  of  lounge  pillows  off 
the  couch,  and  played  with  them  until  the 
feathers  flew.  No,  I  did  not  whip  him.  Neither 
did  he  repair  the  damages  done.  I  shall  have 
to  call  in  a  seamstress  to  fix  them.  One  had  a 
changeable  slip,  but  the  other  was  a  fancy  one 
with  a  ruffle,  and  he  unruffled  it.  I  tell  you 
this  that  you  may  know  that  he  is  not  perfect. 

Now,  I  will  answer  your  questions,  that  had 
to  wait  for  lack  of  room,  in  my  last  note.  Some 
of  them  were  about  the  dog  and  have  been  fully 
answered. 

Where  is  the  picture?  What  a  greedy  little 
Mousie!  She  has  three  pictures,  and  is  not 
satisfied.  I  have  the  original  of  the  cut  in  the 
Magazine  of  Medicine;  you  may  have  that,  or 
I  will  have  one  made  expressly  for  you.  Which 
shall  it  be? 


LETTERS  WRITTEN  TO  A  FRIEND.  IOQ 

How  can  I  see  so  much  in  you?  I  am  no 
psychic,  who  is  developed  to  read  the  future, 
but  recognition  of  character  and  undeveloped 
possibilities  have  helped  me  to  know  and  under- 
stand my  little  friend;  and  yet,  I  have  only 
just  begun  to  learn  your  real  worth.  That  is 
why  I  wanted  to  ask  some  questions,  that  I 
might  know  you  better,  but  I  have  given  up 
that  notion,  as  unwise.  I  shall  trust  your  wo- 
man's wit  to  tell  me  all  I  ought  to  know.  For- 
give my  thoughtless  request.  "A  friend  is  most 
a  friend,  of  whom  the  best  remains  to  learn." 

Yes,  little  girlie,  I  am  sure  you  know  me  bet- 
ter than  to  misjudge  me.  You  are  quite  right. 
I  sent  those  clippings  so  that  you  might  know 
more  about  me,  without  my  having  to  appear 
egotistic  in  writing  of  myself.  Wanting  to  know 
about  you,  I  thought  you  might  care  to  know 
about  me.  There!  I  have  "  'fessed  up"  the 
whole  matter. 

Yes,  I  remember  that  the  Little  Brown  Mouse 
was  the  Information  Bureau,  and  I  also  re- 
member that  she  was  very  angry  at  the  imper- 
tinence of  one  of  her  callers ;  and  do  not  wish  to 
expose  myself  in  like  manner  by  asking  such 
questions.  I  am  a  little  afraid  of  you,  you 
know.  I  do  not  want  to  disappoint  Mousie,  so 
I  shall  ask  her  to  tell  me  how  old  she  is — day, 
month  and  year  of  her  birth;  how  tall  she  is — 
feet  and  inches;  and  how  much  she  weighs. 
How  much  she  thinks  her  dog  weighs.  We 


110  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

weighed  him  the  day  he  was  shipped.  She  may 
tell  me  as  much  more  as  she  wants  me  to  know. 
Yes,  she  has  proven  that  she  can  be  very  accom- 
modating, and  I  am  pretty  sure  she  knows  at 
least,  one  person  who  is  grateful. 

I  am  very  anxious  to  have  the  poems,  espec- 
ially the  prophetic  one,  entitled  "One  Summer." 
However,  you  said  it  was  not  addressed  to  any- 
one, or  based  on  any  experience.  Don't  you. 
think  it  might  belong  to  the  period  of  our  pre- 
vious friendship?  At  any  rate,  it  started  a 
vibration  in  the  listener,  which  has  continued 
to  inspire  him  with  higher  aims  and  nobler 
purposes  ever  since  that  night.  No,  I  have  not 
fought  the  good  fight;  nor  have  I  finished  my 
course.  To  be  sure,  I  have  accomplished  some- 
thing, but  I  have  neglected  so  many  other 
things.  I  am  lacking  in  many  respects.  If  my 
words  help  you,  so  do  yours  help  me.  I  am 
very  glad  it  is  so,  for  I  believe  in  reciprocity. 
You  have  made  the  world  seem  brighter  to  me, 
and  have  taught  me  that  there  are  some  good 
people  in  it,  and  that  life  is  worth  the  living.  I 
was  quite  cynical  when  I  first  met  you.  Some 
unfortunate  experiences  had  lost  me  my  faith 
in  man,  and  my  trust  in  God.  "Sometime" 
you  shall  know.  In  the  meantime  you  can  help 
me  by  your  sympathy  and  letters.  I  have  had 
a  letter  each  week  for  three  weeks,  and  now 
shall  always  look  for  them  that  often. 

I  have  a  call  to  make,  out  south,  at  the  end  of 


LETTERS   WRITTEN  TO  A  FRIEND.  HI 

the  elevated  road.  Wish  you  were  here  to  take 
the  car  ride  with  me.  I  promise  to  be  your 
guide  if  you  come  here,  and  I  will  try  to  do 
as  well  by  you  as  you  did  by  me.  I  must  be 
going,  so  will  say  "good-night"  and  write 
"finis"  at  the  close  of  this  rambling  epistle. 

Did  doggie  tell  you  all  the  things  I  told  him 
to? 

Faithfully,        V.  DE  W. 

ONE  SUMMER. 

Ah,  those  were  the  dear,  happy  days,  sweetheart, 

Those  days  of  the  long  ago ; 
When  all  was  sunshine  and  brightness 

Before  winter's  gloom  and  snow. 

When  you  and  I  together,  sweetheart. 

Roamed  through  the  dusky  wood ; 
Ah,  those  were  the  days  to  remember, 

For  all  in  the  world  seemed  good. 

Ah,  yes,  those  were  dear,  happy  days,  sweet- 
heart, 

Too  happy  by  far  to  last ; 
For  after  sunshine  shadows  gather 

And  sunshine  goes  so  fast. 

So  those  happy  days  have  faded,  sweetheart, 

As  the  sun  when  he  sinks  to  rest, 
Yet,  the  memories  that  hallow  them, 

To  me  are  ever  blessed. 

I  shall  never  forget  those  days,  sweetheart, 

They  were  life's  better  part; 
But  I  closed  the  door  and  lost  the  key 

When  I  hid  them  in  my  heart. 


112  THE  FULFILLING    OF  THE    LAW. 

H. 

CHICAGO,  SEPTEMBER  4,  1898. 
Dear  Mousie : — 

Your  confidence  and  good  opinion  are  precious 
to  me,  and  I  tremble  lest  I  may  be  unworthy  of 
them.  If  God  sent  me  to  you  in  the  time  of 
your  greatest  need,  much  more  did  He  send 
His  good  angel  to  me  when  He  sent  you  into 
my  life.  Now,  that  I  feel  the  responsibility  you 
have  laid  upon  me,  when  you  open  your  heart 
to  me,  then  ask  me  to  help  and  to  give  you 
"a  little  light,"  I  dare  not  say  what  I  feel,  and 
could  not  utter  unbiased  words  to-day;  so  I 
shall  not  answer  that  part  of  your  letter  until 
another  day,  after  I  have  had  time  to  think. 
It  will  be  hard  for  me  to  speak  dispassionately 
at  any  time,  when  the  happiness  of  one  that  has 
become  dear  to  me  is  concerned,  and  just  now 
I  am  sure  I  should  speak  too  strongly.  God 
forbid  that  I  should  add  one  iota  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  your  unmerited  martyrdom.  Why,  dear 
little  girlie,  my  heart  aches  for  you.  It  shall  be 
my  aim  to  bring  joy  into  your  life,  and  help  you 
into  the  larger  sphere  of  usefulness  for  which 
you  are  so  well  fitted.  How  happy  I  shall  be 
when  I  see  you  "trying  your  wings"  in  original 
work  in  music,  literature  or  art !  Read  my  first 
letter  to  you  from  Chicago.  You  will  find  there 
expressed  what  I  feel  now. 

You  ask  me  not  to  overrate  you  lest  I  be 
disappointed  in  the  end,  and  now  I  must  urge 
upon  you  your  own  caution.  I  too,  am  human, 


LETTERS  WRITTEN  TO  A  FRIEND.  113 

and  often  very  weak  and  fallible.  If  you  could 
have  read  my  thoughts  as  I  read  your  letter 
this  morning,  you  might  have  been  surprised 
as  I  was. 

The  dear  little  doggie,  I  ought  to  say  "  Freck- 
les," I  suppose, — how  poorly  you  understand 
him!  I  am  sure  he  has  told  you  repeatedly 
what  I  told  him  to  tell  you.  Has  he  never  laid 
his  head  upon  your  knee  and  looked  up  into 
your  face?  He  was  telling  you  then.  Look 
into  his  eyes  and  see  if  they  do  not  tell  you 
something. 

You  have  not  sent  directions  about  his  collar. 
He  will  blame  me  for  the  delay,  I  fear.  I  have 
lost  the  string  with  which  I  measured  his  neck, 
so  please  tell  me  the  size.  Have  you  any  choice 
as  to  style  and  make  of  collar? 

I  am  glad  that  Freckles  improves  with  age, 
and  I  shall  take  your  good  will  for  the  deed,  and 
forgive  him.  He  has  gained  half  a  pound  since 
he  left  me,  for  the  day  he  went  he  weighed  just 
thirty-two  pounds.  That  is  good  evidence  that 
he  is  well  cared  for — lucky  dog! 

No  doubt  the  penny  will  bring  good  luck  to 
me.  I  shall  keep  it  with  that  hope,  for  I  need 
better  luck.  I  have  more  faith  in  your  good 
wishes  that  come  with  it  than  in  the  coin.  Did 
my  grains  of  rice  bring  any  charm  to  you? 

Yes,  the  report  is  quite  satisfactory.  I  knew 
how  old  you  were,  but  not  the  date  of  your 
birth.  You  told  me  when  you  asked  my  age.  I 
have  forgotten  little  that  you  told  me  in  those 


114  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

two  happy  days.  I  thought  you  would  think 
me  old,  so  I  did  not  like  to  tell  you  my  age.  We 
are  not  far  apart  in  age;  you  are  older  than 
your  years,  and  I  am  younger  than  mine,  and 
that  brings  us  closer  together.  Do  I  seem  very 
old  to  you?  You  are  tall  enough  and  heavy 
enough  for  a  little  mousie.  You  could  not  have 
found  your  way  into  my  heart  if  you  had  been 
larger. 

By  the  way,  that  "picture  on  memory's  wall " 
will  fade  after  awhile,  so  that  I  cannot  call  it 
up  and  see  it  when  I  wish  to.  The  memory  is 
indelible,  but  the  vision  is  fleeting,  so  I  am 
Wanting  another  picture  that  I  can  hold  in  my 
hand,  and  perchance,  talk  to  if  I  am  lonely. 
When  I  felt  that  I  must  say  things,  when  my 
heart  got  too  full  I  used  to  talk  to  Freckles. 
Now  it  may  burst  if  I  do  not  have  some  sort  of 
a  safety  valve. 

Many,  many  thanks  for  the  little  poem.  It 
means  very  much  to  me.  The  vibration  it  has 
started  in  my  heart  may  some  day  find  form 
and  expression  in  another  poem;  if  so  it  shall 
be  yours  for  you  inspired  it.  Let  us  think  that 
it  is  the  echo  of  the  old  friendship  which  has 
been  renewed.  Let  us  believe  that  God's  own 
hand  has  guided  our  paths,  and  that  our  friend- 
ship has  been  ordained  by  Him.  I  do  not 
blame  you,  nor  do  I  think  your  conscience 
should  condemn  you  for  deceiving  your  name- 
less friend;  his  conduct  forced  the  necessity 
upon  you.  Your  story  is  very  plain  and 


LETTERS  WRITTEN   TO  A  FRIEND.  115 

straightforward,  and  I  do  "understand  a  little," 
and  shall  be  just  as  frank  as  yourself,  but  not 
now.  Let  me  say  this  much,  however,  you 
approach  nearer  and  nearer  my  ideal  the  better 
I  know  and  understand  you.  Oh,  if  I  could  see 
and  talk  to  you  for  an  hour!  My  heart  is  full, 
so  full,  but  I  cannot  write  the  thoughts  that 
clamor  for  place,  for  I  have  no  words  with 
which  to  state  them.  But  dearie,  I  understand. 
I  know  the  power  that  forced  you  to  write  when 
you  had  promised  not  to ;  it  was  the  same  power 
that  prompted  the  letter  that  you  answered; 
it  was  friendship — such  friendship  as  is  worthy 
of  the  name.  "The  strong-minded  young  lady  " 
that  I  admired  will  soon  appear  again.  The 
puzzled  little  girl  will  solve  the  puzzle  and  will 
know  and  do  right.  I  shall  help  both  of  them 
for  your  sake,  "Little  Brown  Mouse." 

Now  I  shall  say  farewell  for  a  little  while,  and 
go  over  to  the  hospital  to  keep  ar.  engagement 
with  a  patient  who  is  to  meet  me  there  this 
afternoon. 

Be  good  and  brave  and  write  soon  to, 
Your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

THIS  SUMMER. 

Ah,  these  are  the  dear,  happy  days,  sweetheart, 

These  days  of  the  summer  time, 
When  all  is  sunshine  and  gladness, 

Before  winter's  cold  and  rime. 


Il6  THE    FULFILLING   OF   THE    LAW. 

When  you  and  I  are  together,  sweetheart, 

Roaming  through  wood  and  park, 
Through  the  sunshine  and  the  gloaming, 

Till  the  days  are  done,  after  dark. 

Ah,  yes,  these  are  dear,  happy  days,  sweetheart, 

Happier  far  than  the  past ; 
For  after  the  storm  comes  the  sunshine 

Bringing  blessings  that  last. 

Ah,  these  dear  summer  days!  sweetheart, 

They  come  as  the  sun  at  morn, 
Dispelling  darkness  and  sorrow, 

Proclaiming  that  love  is  born. 

I  shall  never  forget  these  days,  sweetheart, 

They  are  life's  better  part ; 
In  them  I  found  the  magic  key 

Which  opes  the  door  of  your  heart. 

I. 

CHICAGO,  SEPTEMBER  n,  1898. 
My  Dear  Grace : — 

May  I  call  you  so?  I  often  think  of  you  in 
that  way,  for  Grace,  you  know,  means  a  free 
gift,  or  the  gift  of  God,  which  is  always  free; 
and  you  have  been  and  are  a  gift  from  Him. 
I  am  glad  that  you  also  needed  me. 

The  first  thing  I  write  must  be  the  answers  to 
your  questions,  which  I  put  off  from  my  last 
letter.  I  do  not  know  as  I  shall  do  better  by 
waiting,  but  I  am  sure  I  shall  write  more  mildly, 
and  I  hope  more  wisely,  for  when  your  letter 
was  newly  read  it  stirred  me  up  rather  thorough- 
ly and  made  me  want  to  say  things  plainly,  that 


LETTERS  WRITTEN  TO  A  FRIEND.  117 

it  seems  wiser  not  to  say  at  all  now.  You  know, 
I  am  sure,  that  what  I  say  is  for  your  interest 
and  happiness;  that  I  promptly  come  to  your 
assistance,  having  heard  your  call  for  help. 
With  this  assurance  I  am  going  to  talk  to  you. 

I  see  so  much  in  you,  and  have  hoped  for  so 
much  from  you,  that  it  hurts  me  deeply  to 
know  that  you  are  hampered  by  anything.  And 
that  that  hindrance  is  the  will,  or  wilfulness  of 
a  selfish  man,  is  too  bad.  He  ought  to  see  and 
know  that  you  are  not  like  "other  ordinary 
women,"  and  help  you  in  your  efforts  to  realize 
the  possibilities  that  lie  before  you,  instead  of 
standing  in  the  way  of  discouraging  you,  simply 
because  he  cannot  understand  you.  You  under- 
stand your  position,  and  have  no  need  that 
anyone  should  advise  you  further  than  to  say, 
do  as  you  have  sometimes  tried  to  do,  give  him 
up.  It  is  contemptible  for  a  man,  or  as  you 
say,  a  boy,  to  attain  his  end  in  such  a  way.  It 
is  shameful  to  play  upon  your  generous  sympa- 
thies in  such  a  manner.  You  had  better  do  as 
you  have  threatened  to, — give  him  up.  "Let 
him  go  to  the  devil"  as  he  says  he  will.  He 
ought  to  go.  That's  where  he  belongs. 

You  feel  badly  about  deceiving  him  in  an 
innocent  matter,  and  I  will  warrant  you  that  he 
deceives  you  in  many  ways  which  are  not  inno- 
cent. I  have  known  a  good  many  young  men, 
and  I  recognize  in  your  picture  the  type  of  a  fast 
young  man.  If  he  is  not  already  so  he  will  be,  and 
you  cannot  save  him.  For  God's  sake  do  not  let 


Il8  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

him  drag  you  down  with  him,  nor  let  him  pre- 
vent you  from  making  the  most  of  the  talents 
which  the  Lord  has  given  you.  Do  not  think 
you  can  save  him  by  marrying  him,  for  you 
cannot.  Your  influence  over  him  now  is  many 
times  greater  than  it  will  be  after  you  have 
married  him.  I  have  seen,  oh,  such  pitiful 
wrecks  that  have  stranded  upon  that  rock.  Ask 
your  mother  to  advise  you.  She  loves  you; 
she  knows  your  worth;  she  wants  you  to  make 
the  most  of  yourself;  she  wants  you  to  be 
happy ;  and  she  must  understand  that  a  mistake 
in  this  matter  will  end  only  in  eternity.  I  know 
she  is  wise  and  good,  for  I  could  read  it  in  her 
dear,  motherly  face  when  I  saw  it. 

Why  do  you  give  up  to  him  so?  Because  it 
has  become  an  habit  with  you.  You  say  it  has 
become  second  nature,  which  is  the  same  thing. 
As  we  let  any  other  will  dominate  us  our  own 
becomes  weaker,  just  in  proportion  to  our  de- 
pendence upon  the  other.  He  has  not  con- 
trolled you  because  his  is  the  stronger  mind. 
It  is  likely  that  you  have  the  stronger  mind,  but 
as  you  say  you  "have  given  up  so  many,  many 
things  to  keep  him  in  good  humour"  that  it 
has  become  a  habit. 

Why  do  you  care  whether  he  likes  what  you 
do  or  not  ?  The  answer  is  as  simple  as  the  other. 
You  are  afraid  of  him.  He  has  acted  the  spoiled 
child  so  often  and  made  you  miserable  when  you 
have  done  what  he  did  not  like,  that  you  have 
become  accustomed  to  study  his  likes  and  dis- 


LETTERS  WRITTEN  TO  A  FRIEND.  IIQ 

likes,  so  as  to  avoid  his  disagreeable  behavior 
when  he  is  displeased.  You  do  not  really  care, 
except  in  the  above  sense.  You  do  not  love 
him,  for  love  banishes  fear. 

Perhaps  you  think  me  too  severe  in  my 
judgment  of  the  "good  boy's  character,"  but 
I  doubt  it.  At  any  rate,  you  can  easily  find  out 
the  truth.  Ask  your  brother  to  make  inquiries 
about  him  of  those  who  know  his  habits.  It  is 
a  brother's  duty  to  protect  his  sister.  The  fact 
that  you  know  so  few  of  his  friends  leads  me 
to  believe  that  you  are  mistaken  in  your  knowl- 
edge that  he  is  "a  good  boy."  If  he  were  ever 
so  good  he  could  never  be  worth  the  sacrifice 
it  is  costing  you  to  keep  him  so.  With  your 
help  he  can  make  a  name  for  himself,  you  say, 
and  I  reply,  without  this  hindrance  you  can 
make  a  greater  one  for  yourself.  Those  of  your 
friends  who  shake  their  heads,  see  much  more 
than  they  say,  and  you  will  do  well  to  take 
their  warning. 

Have  I  said  enough,  or  too  much?  In  either 
c-ase  I  shall  close  my  talk  with  this  word.  Do 
not  disappoint  your  friends  by  failing  to  make 
the  best  effort  in  your  power  to  succeed. 

The  little  poem  that  I  made  an  attempt  at  is 
almost  a  failure,  so  I  shall  not  send  it  as  I  thought 
of  doing.  I  find  that  my  knowledge  of  feet  (met- 
rical) is  woefully  lacking.  Doubtless  you  have 
observed  that  in  the  rearrangement  that  I  at- 
tempted of  your  verses.  Frankly,  what  is  your 
opinion  of  it?  If  you  will  collaborate  with  me, 


120  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

possibly  I  would  send  the  other,  for  I  should  like 
to  perfect  it.  I  wish  we  lived  near  each  other, 
for  I  want  someone  of  a  kindred  spirit  to  aid 
me  and  encourage  and  inspire  me  in  my  feeble 
efforts.  It  is  dreadfully  dull  to  work  alone,  and 
I  have  to  do  that  or  not  work  at  all ;  and  then 
what  would  my  friends  think  of  me  ? 

How  is  the  stenography  coming  on?  How 
many  words  can  you  write  per  minute?  Do 
you  like  it?  Are  you  learning  to  type- write  as 
well?  I  have  a  typewriter.  I  copied  the  poem 
with  it.  What  do  you  think  of  my  writing, 
could  I  graduate  from  your  school?  I  did  once 
get  a  commercial  degree  from  a  business  college. 
I  ran  across  the  diploma  the  other  day.  I  am 
"Master  of  Accounts",  if  you  please.  It  would 
be  nice  if  one  could  transfer  knowledge  in  bulk, 
then  I  could  give  you  what  I  learned  in  that  line, 
and  save  you  much  hard  work.  I  have  other 
things  that  I  would  share  with  you  also;  but 
knowledge,  unlike  gold,  one  must  dig  for  him- 
self. 

I  missed  your  letter,  which  I  looked  for  both 
Saturday  and  to-day.  Your  letters  have  come 
as  helpful  messengers  to  cheer  my  lonely  hours, 
and  their  helpful,  happy  influences  have  bright- 
ened many  hours  that  would  have  been  dull 
enough,  had  it  not  been  for  those  more  than 
welcome  missives.  I  would  not  willingly  take 
your  time  from  your  studies  and  duties,  but  I 
hope  that  you  will  let  the  Little  Brown  Mouse 
write  to  me  often.  Dear  Little  Brown  Mouse, 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  121 

how  good  she  has  been  to  me!     I  hope  "some- 
time" to  prove  that  I  appreciate  all  she  has 
done,  and  herself  as  well.     Until  then,  I  am, 
Faithfully, 

V.  DE  W. 

J- 

CHICAGO,  SEPTEMBER  i8TH,  1898. 
Dear  Friend: — 

Something  tells  me  that  you  are  unhappy,  and 
my  heart  goes  out  to  you  in  sympathy.  I  wish 
I  could  bear  the  burden  for  you.  There  is 
nothing  I  would  not  gladly  do  to  save  you  from 
worry  and  pain;  and  I  wish  that  I  could  prove 
that  I  am  not  saying  empty  words.  You  ask 
me  to  advise  you  and  help  you,  but  I  fear  that 
I  have  failed.  What  more  can  I  say  or  do? 
It  is  hard  waiting  the  long  days  and  weeks 
through,  knowing  that  you  need  help,  and  being 
unable  to  aid  you.  Often,  I  find  myself  fearing 
lest  something  has  happened  to  you,  or  that 
you  are  ill.  Please  write  me  soon  that  I  may 
know  how  you  are. 

Freckles  needed  his  collar,  so  I  got  one  for 
him,  guessing  at  the  size,  and  I  hope  it  will  fit, 
and  suit  both  him  and  his  little  mistress.  The 
marking  was  not  what  I  wanted  exactly,  but 
he  may  prefer  the  sort  of  a  bangle  we  arranged, 
better  than  the  other  original  plan.  If  the  col- 
lar does  not  suit  he  shall  have  another  that  will. 

It  seemed  unfair  to  send  a  box  for  Freckles, 
without  a  tiny  remembrance  for  the  Little 


122  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Brown  Mouse,  so  I  put  in  a  little  bracelet  for 
her,  guessing  also  at  the  size  of  her  paw.  Let 
her  wear  it  sometimes  for  my  sake. 

For  you  I  put  in  a  cartridge  as  a  war  souvenir. 
It  was  picked  up  on  the  hill  where  the  hottest 
fighting  occurred  before  the  taking  of  Santiago  de 
Cuba,  by  a  friend  who  was  in  the  war.  I  had 
the  powder  removed  so  it  would  not  be  danger- 
ous. It  is  the  kind  used  by  some  of  the  Dons, 
The  bullet  is  brass. 

On  second  thought  I  have  decided  to  send 
my  attempt  at  a  poem  on  "A  Previous  Friend- 
ship," trusting  that  you  will  come  to  my  assist- 
ance in  making  it  real  poetry.  Alone  I  can 
never  succeed.  The  ideas  are  true,  but  to  ar- 
range them  in  verse,  "there's  the  rub."  Will  you 
use  the  prerogative  of  friendship  and  thoroughly 
criticise  this  production,  and  then  use  your  nat- 
ural helpfulness  and  aid  me  to  make  of  it  what 
it  should  be  ? 

You  say  in  a  recent  letter  that  you  are  looking 
at  the  world  from  a  different  standpoint  from 
that  of  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  I  find  the  same  is 
true  in  my  own  case.  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
thinking  that  scientific  study  and  investigation 
were  my  chief  aim  and  happiness,  but  to  my 
great  surprise,  I  find  that  they  have  given  place 
to  a  nearer  and  dearer  ambition.  Since  I  saw 
Omaha  and  you,  all  is  changed. 

For  years  my  close  application  to  study  and 
work  left  no  room  for  other  things;  but  now, 
the  other  things,  unsought,  have  found  place 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  123 

and  demand  their  right  to  remain.  I  am  like 
one  suddenly  awakened  from  sleep  to  find  that 
life  is  all  a  dream,  and  that  real  things  are  not 
what  I  thought,  but  others  infinitely  more  prec- 
ious need  attention.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  to  do,  and  I  have  no  one  to  advise  me. 
Time  may  solve  the  problem  for  me.  At  any 
rate  I  have  no  choice  but  to  give  him  the  chance. 
Notwithstanding  your  generous  statement 
that  the  length  of  my  letters  could  not  weary 
you,  I  fear  that  they  have  done  so,  but  it  is 
hard  to  stop  when  I  am  talking  with  you,  even 
on  paper.  It  is  very  strange,  for  none  ever  had 
occasion  to  think  me  too  communicative  be- 
fore. Rather  the  reverse  has  been  the  case. 
Somehow,  it  seems  but  natural  that  I  should 
tell  you  everything  and  expect  you  to  be  inter- 
ested, and  to  help  me  with  your  advice.  You 
must  do  with  my  letters  as  we  do  with  our 
journals  when  we  do  not  want  them,  namely, 
order  them  discontinued.  It  is  a  pleasure  for 
me  to  chat  with  you,  even  when  you  do  not 
answer  my  letters.  I  feel  sure  that,  in  your 
heart,  you  make  answer  to  them  all,  although 
circumstances  hinder  the  writing  and  sending 
of  the  answer.  I  thank  you  for  saying  that 
you  trust  me,  because  it  is  an  inspiration  to 
me  and  helps  me  to  be  worthy  of  your  confi- 
dence. I  too,  trust  you,  and  when  you  say 
you  are  my  "friend"  I  take  it  in  all  of  its  sacred 
meaning;  and  although  I  cannot  understand 
your  actions,  or  silence,  I  believe  in  you  just 


124  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

the  same.  Your  dear  friendship  has  made  me 
desire  to  be  something  better  than  I  have  been, 
and  do  something  nobler  than  I  have  done.  My 
idea  is  expressed  in  Emerson's  words: 

"Our  chief  want  in  life  is  somebody  who 
shall  make  us  do  what  we  can.  This  is  the 
service  of  a  friend.  With  her  we  are  easily 
great.  There  is  a  sublime  attraction  in  her  to 
whatever  virtue  there  is  in  us.  How  she  flings 
wide  the  door  of  existence !  What  questions  we 
ask  of  her!  What  an  understanding  we  have! 
What  few  words  we  need!  It  is  the  only  real 
society." 

The  pages  of  your  last  letter,  upon  which 
were  written  the  description  of  your  boy  friend, 
which  you  wished  might  not  rise  up  in  after 
years  to  confront  you,  have  been  destroyed, 
as  you  directed.  However,  I  have  carefully 
kept  all  of  your  other  writings. 

Of  course,  I  am  going  to  do  just  what  I  said, 
let  you  be  my  critic.  Where  could  I  find  a 
kinder  one?  Someone  has  said:  "Take  the  ad- 
vice of  a  friend,  and  submit  your  invention  to 
his  censure." 

How  nice  of  you  to  wish  to  make  up  for  that 
disappointment,  and  be  willing  to  defy  the 
powers  that  be,  that  you  might  give  me  the 
pleasure  of  your  company  on  Chicago  day.  It 
greatly  tempts  me  to  drop  everything  and  fly 
to  Omaha,  and  you.  I  would  if  I  could. 

Yes,  don  your  best  dress.  Would  I  know  you 
if  I  should  see  you  in  it?  I  did  not  see  you  at 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  12$ 

the  reception,  you  know,  so  I  never  saw  you  in 
any  character  except  as  the  Little  Brown  Mouse. 
This  is  the  picture  that  hangs  in  the  place  of 
honor  on  the  walls  of  my  memory.  What  a 
blessing  is  memory,  to  bring  us  treasures  from 
the  storehouse  of  the  mind!  It  is  the  only 
Paradise  from  which  we  cannot  be  turned  out. 
It  tells  us  the  tales  that  were  so  dear  in  other 
days  as  they  passed.  I  am  glad  to  have  a 
place  in  your  memory,  for  it  renders  the  dis- 
tance less  between  us. 

Here  let  me  place  my  mark,  for  I  have  done. 
Yours, 

V.    DE    W. 

A  PREVIOUS  FRIENDSHIP. 

The  present  life  is  like  an  arch, 

Which  joins  our  future  with  our  past; 
Clouds  have  followed  the  onward  march, 

And  obscure  the  look  we  backward  cast 
At  the  scenes  before  our  earthly  life, 

And  memory  has  lost  the  score 
Of  our  past  friendships  and  the  strifes 

Experienced  on  that  far  shore. 

'Tis  only  when  tempests  arise, 

And  soul  -storms  tear  open  the  door 
Our  subconsciousness,  where  lies 

The  record  we  are  searching  for, 
That  we  catch  glimpses  of  the  past ; 

Then,  rarely,  are  they  clearly  seen, 
But  have  to  be  patched  and  recast 

Before  we  perceive  what  they  mean. 


126  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Out  from  the  shore  of  that  unknown, 

Like  a  memory  of  a  vivid  dream, 
Came  a  vision,  a  face — your  own, 

With  tender  love  I  saw  it  beam, 
Your  sweet  voice  thrilled  me  through  and 
through, 

Your  words  were  echoes  from  that  shore; 
And  your  form  seemed  familiar  too ; 

In  you  I  found  my  friend  once  more. 

Were  we  friends,  was  the  vision  true? 

Did  you  and  I  then,  hand  in  hand, 
Once  roam  the  dusky  woods  all  through, 

The  while  the  sun  shone  o'er  the  land? 
Is  this  new  love  the  one  of  yore, 

Born  far  beyond  the  mystic  sea? 
Shall  we  be  happy  as  before, 

What  in  the  distance  do  we  see? 

K. 

CHICAGO,  SEPT.  21,  1898. 
Grace,  Dear  Friend: — 

Silence  gives  consent,  so  I  shall  call  you  by 
the  name  that  I  think  suits  you  best.  Certainly 
to  me  you  have  appeared  graceful  and  have  been 
most  gracious. 

I  hasten  to  answer  your  letter  for  two  reasons : 
First,  I  want  the  letter  that  you  signed,  sealed, 
but  failed  to  send.  It  is  mine,  you  know,  and 
you  must  not  keep  other  people's  property  with- 
out their  consent.  All  you  write  to  me  is  highly 
valued,  and  I  shall  be  disappointed  if  I  do  not 
have  it.  Second,  I  want  to  say:  I  stand  cor- 
rected. Your  "boy  friend"  has  arisen  in  my 
estimation  to  an  enviable  height.  Your  defense 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  127 

of  him  was  most  eloquent,  but  with  this  correc 
tion  my  position  is  the  same.  If  he  were  an 
angel  from  Heaven,  and  he  stood  in  the  way  of 
my  friend's  development  and  growth  into  the 
beautiful  and  talented  character  that  her  abil- 
ities and  ambitions  have  fitted  her  for,  I  should 
gladly  see  him  thrown  over  the  battlements  into 
outer  darkness,  as  certain  other  angels  were. 
Not  because  I  want  him  to  suffer,  but  because 
I  want  to  see  my  hopes  realized  in  my  friend. 
You  will  observe  that  I  always  write  as  I  feel 
and  it  is  likely  that  when  I  feel  deeply  I  am  a 
little  severe.  Indeed,  I  have  been  told  so. 

I  am  very  anxious  to  see  you  succeed  and  I 
want  to  help  you  try  your  wings.  I  predict 
good  things  for  you.  You  are  showing  in  your 
shorthand  and  typewriting  the  force  of  mind 
and  the  application  which  always  succeed.  I 
am  glad  you  have  a  machine  and  hope  to  see 
some  of  your  work;  and  when  you  are  ready 
for  outside  work,  I  shall  patronize  you. 

That  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all,  because  it 
hit  the  mark.  I  am  a  two-finger  typer.  I  shall 
not  brag  again,  you  let  me  down  too  hard. 

Freckles  has  evidently  won  a  sure  place  in 
your  heart,  and  I  rejoice  in  his  development, 
for  it  reflects  some  credit  on  me  as  a  judge  of  dog- 
flesh.  He  certainly  deserves  a  better  collar  than 
I  sent  him,  and  he  shall  have  it.  The  one  I  sent 
was  the  best  I  could  get  at  the  stores,  but  we 
can  have  one  made.  You  tell  him  he  is  to  have 


128  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

another  if  he  is  a  good  dog.     I  am  so  glad  you 
like  him  and  enjoy  his  tricks  and  frolics! 

If  I  had  known  the  honored  distinction  my 
little  book  was  to  have  I  should  have  sent  one 
more  fitting,  but  to  "fess  up"  I  did  not  count  it 
worthy  the  name  "gift"  and  sent  it  chiefly  as  a 
protection  for  the  photo.  However,  I  am  de- 
lighted to  know  that  I  presented  you  with  your 
first  "gift"  book.  Indeed,  I  did  consider  the 
contents  somewhat,  and  chose  it  because  it  is 
interesting  and  instructive;  and  above  all,  the 
characters  are  true  to  life.  Books  are  my  weak- 
ness, at  least  one  of  them,  and  I  have  spent  much 
time  with  them — too  much,  some  think.  A  new 
book  always  catches  my  eye,  and  I  have  some- 
times gone  hungry  that  I  might  possess  one. 
My  books  have  always  been  my  friends ;  faithful 
too,  they  have  been. 

Your  letter  made  me  quite  light-hearted.  I 
was  getting  worried  at  your  silence,  and  I  guess 
I  did  suffer  as  much  as  the  girl  without  the 
waist,  whose  letter,  like  mine,  lay  unsent  in 
your  escritoire. 
Love  to  Freckles, 

Auf  baldiges  wieder  schen, 
Sincerely, 

V.    DEW. 

L. 

CHICAGO,  SEPT.  25,  1898. 
Gracie : — 

You  are  the  dearest  little  friend  in  all  the 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  1 2Q 

world,  and  your  letters  are  just  like  you.  This 
one  before  me  is  so  nice  and  breathes  such  a 
sweet  spirit  of  frank  good  will  that  it  quite 
makes  up  for  the  one  you  wrote  when  you  were 
cross  and  out  of  joint  with  things  in  general.  It 
is  a  consolation  to  know  that  you  are  human, 
and  consequently  have  your  complement  of 
weaknesses.  I  should  not  feel  quite  at  ease  with 
a  person  absolutely  perfect.  So  when  I  observe 
in  your  letters  signs  of  your  imperfections,  I  am 
less  fearful  that  you  may  discover  mistakes  in 
my  letters  and  signs  of  like  imperfections  in  me. 

The  reason  that  we  are  so  often  disappointed 
in  our  friends  is  because  we  expect  too  much  of 
them.  None  is  to  blame  for  not  doing  what  is 
impossible.  And,  while  it  is  at  times  true,  as 
you  say,  that  the  best  of  friends  sometimes  tire 
of  each  other,  it  is  also  true  that:  "A  time  friend 
is  always  a  friend."  The  same  author  says: 
"As  you  grow  ready  for  it,  you  will  find,  some- 
where or  other,  what  is  needful  in  a  book  or  a 
friend."  Friendship  is  often  a  misnomer,  used 
to  signify  modish  and  worldly  alliances,  but 
those  who  have  learned  by  dear  experiences 
what  the  genuine  is,  are  not  likely  to  mistake 
the  false  for  the  true. 

Just  as  soon  as  you  begin  to  keep  back  things 
that  I,  as  your  friend,  ought  to  know,  just  so 
soon  will  you  enter  a  wedge  that  will  sooner  or 
later  separate  the  essentials  of  friendship,  which 
are  sympathy  and  trust.  I  am  glad  that  you 
decided  that  you  might  as  well  tell.  That  is 


130  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

what  ailed  the  letter  of  a  week  ago,  which  you 
call  rather  poor ;  and  I  felt  the  lack,  and  it  hurt 
me  clear  through,  for  I  want  to  be  a  help  to 
you,  and  I  feel  that  I  can  and  ought  to  be. 
There  is  a  strange  bond  that  has  drawn  and 
holds  us  together.     Some  day  we  shall  under- 
stand.    Many  times  I  have  felt  your  presence, 
and  no  doubt  it  is  due  to  thought  transference. 
I  don't  know  how  I  knew,  but  I  was  very  sure 
that  you  were  unhappy;   and  it  is  so  pleasant 
to  have  you  say  that  my  words  have  meant 
something  to  you.     I  am  beginning  to  think 
that  I  am  of  some  use  after  all.     Make  me  feel 
more  so  by  depending  much  upon  me.     I  shall 
try  not  to  fail  you.     I  want  you  to  be  ambitious 
and  do  something.     First,  you  must  complete 
your  shorthand,  then  take  up  something  else. 
Do  more  than  dream,  "do."     I  think  likely  you 
will   find   your   greatest   success   in  literature. 
You  and  I  both  need  to  study  composition, 
style  and  the  like,  and  maybe  it  will  be  possible 
for  us  to  make  a  plan  by  which  we  can  help 
each  other.     For  a  few  months  now  I  shall  not 
have  much  time,  but  we  always  find  time  enough 
to  do  what  we  like  to  do.  I  wish  I  might  take  your 
advice  and  attempt  something  in  fiction,  but 
I  have  arranged  to  have  my  lectures  at  the  col- 
lege stenographed  with  a  view  to  the  production 
of  a  book  on  "Practice,"  so  for  the  present,  I 
am  unable  to  try  anything  else. 

I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do  to  you  for 
destroying  my  letter  that  you  failed  to  mail, 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  131 

and  now  you  confess  a  greater  crime,  the  de- 
struction of  a  poem.  I  know  what  I'd  do  to 
you  if  I  had  you  here,  little  girlie,  but  it  is  hard 
to  punish  one  at  so  great  a  distance.  I  know 
what  I'll  do.  I'll  forgive  you  and  heap  coals  of 
fire  upon  your  little  brown  head.  Now  I  know 
that  you  will  be  sorry  and  keep  your  promise 
never  to  do  it  again.  Don't  you  think  you 
could  reproduce  the  poem,  if  you  knew  that  it 
would  please  some  one  very  much  to  have  it? 

That  poem  of  mine  does  not  merit  such  sweet 
praise,  but  I  am  glad  you  like  it,  for  you  inspired 
it  and  it  was  written  to  you.  And  as  I  answered 
your  poem  by  rearranging  it,  so  you  can  do  with 
mine.  It  will  be  a  sort  of  "deep  answering  unto 
deep"  where  our  poetic  natures  respond,  the 
one  to  the  other.  The  metre  is  what  worried 
me.  I  am  unlike  you,  in  that  I  have  no  ear 
for  music.  I  am  fond  of  music.  Indeed,  I  love 
everything  that  is  beautiful,  and  as  is  some- 
times said,  have  music  in  my  soul  but  am  unable 
to  express  it.  My  little  poem  is  my  dream,  as 
near  as  I  can  reproduce  it,  but  not  quite  all  of 
it.  How  often  I  look  into  the  distance  with 
wistful  questioning  gaze!  What  has  it  in  store 
for  me?  Who  can  tell? 

If  we  lived  closer  together  it  would  be  differ- 
ent. However,  we  are  not  far  apart  in  thought. 
When  you  need  me,  I'll  not  be  far  off.  It  shall 
be  as  it  was  when  you  sat  under  our  little  scraggy 
tree  on  the  hill;  you  will  be  conscious  of  my 


132  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

presence,  and  know  that  I  feel  and  care. 

I  am  going  to  patronize  you  by  sending  you 
work,  to  be  sure.  Are  you  ready  for  it?  Can 
you  spare  the  time  to  do  copying?  I  sometimes 
have  papers,  addresses,  etc.,  copied  and  could 
send  you  one  if  it  would  not  be  imposing  upon 
your  kindness.  For  the  present,  if  you  think 
the  poem  is  all  right,  and  it  suits  you,  you  may 
make  a  copy  of  it  for  me,  as  I  did  not  keep  one. 

I  am  glad  that  Mousie  and  Freckles  like  and 
wear  my  little  tokens.  I  too,  thought  of  the 
meaning  of  the  circle  and  wished  that  it  might 
be  emblematic  of  our  friendship ;  but  I  thought 
besides  of  its  twisted  strands,  and  observed  how 
intimate  and  helpful  was  their  relation.  Might 
that  also  characterize  or  suggest  something? 
You  see  how  fanciful  I  am.  You  did  not  think 
it,  did  you? 

After  such  a  threat  about  the  length  of  my 
letters  I  shall  not  dare  to  say  anything  that 
has  been  proscribed,  so  I  wash  my  hands  of  all 
care  in  the  matter,  and  run  on  ad  libitum. 
There  I  go,  foreign  words  again,  and  I  have 
not  translated  the  other  phrase  for  you  yet. 
Auf  baldiges  wieder  schen  is  a  sort  of  good-by, 
and  like  that  expression  difficult  to  render  into 
any  other  language  than  the  German.  As  near 
as  I  can  say,  it  means,  "soon  see  again,"  or 
"may  we  soon  see  each  other  again." 

Once  I  failed  of  the  golden  silence,  but  I  have 
spoken  my  mind  as  you  requested,  and  shall  not 
have  to  hurt  your  feelings  again. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  133 

Happy  days  will  come  again  to  you,  if  you 
are  brave  and  stand  for  what  you  know  is  right. 
God  be  with  you,  dear, 

Faithfully, 

V.  DE  W. 

M. 

CHICAGO,  SEPT.  28,  1898. 
Dear  Mousie: — 

Your  friend  is  very  tired  to-night,  but  not 
too  tired  to  chat  with  you — that  always  rests 
him.  He  had  a  lecture  this  morning  and  an 
examination  this  afternoon,  and  as  he  sat  there 
waiting  for  his  class  to  write  their  papers  he 
fell  to  dreaming;  and  whom  do  you  think  he 
dreamed  about?  Why,  it  was  you.  He  often 
goes  away  in  thought  and  lives  over  again  those 
days  of  "This  Summer,"  precious  days!  One 
of  the  students  had  to  repeat  his  question  more 
than  once  to  call  him  back  from  his  waking 
dream.  He  was  sitting  on  a  hill  under  a  little 
crooked  tree — "our  tree  " — and  he  was  not  alone. 
You  were  wi'th  him,  and  he  looked  deep  into  two 
beautiful  brown  eyes  as  they  looked  up  at  him. 
Eyes  are  said  to  be  "the  windows  of  the  soul," 
and  he  was  looking  through  the  windows,  trying 
to  see  what  was  recorded  there.  He  thought 
he  saw  something,  but  he  could  not  spell  out 
all  of  its  meaning;  he  will  have  to  look  again. 

This  is  to  be  just  a  little  note  about  two 
things  that  you  will  find  enclosed:  One,  a  little 
Greek  coin  that  I  got  from  a  little  Greek  girl. 


134  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

I  thought  I'd  send  it  in  return  for  the  penny, 
which  I  always  carry.  I  shall  not  wait  to  be 
asked  to  translate  what  is  printed  upon  it.  The 
word  "LEPTA"  is  the  name  of  the  coin,  as  cent 
is  a  word  with  us,  and  the  Lepta  is  worth  about 
half  of  a  cent.  BASILEION  TAS  'ELLADOS 
means  "Kingdom  of  Greece." 

Two,  I  have  written  another  poem,  and  ac- 
cording to  command  it  must  be  forthwith  sub- 
mitted to  the  critic.  How  would  it  do  to  send 
to  my  mother?  Can  you  discover  any  reason 
why  it  should  not  be  so  sent?  I  am  anxious  to 
have  your  opinion,  so  send  it  at  once  to  you, 
hoping  to  hear  the  sooner. 

I  omitted  an  important  word  in  my  last  letter. 
It  was  about  your  being  my  stenographer  when 
you  are  expert  enough.  It  is  something  that 
I  have  thought  of  many  times  since  I  knew  you 
were  studying.  I  feared  you  might  be  too  high 
priced  for  me  to  think  of  affording  the  luxury. 
When  you  are  ready  let  me  know.  Who  can 
tell  what  may  happen?  Certainly  not  I.  In  the 
meantime  I  shall  send  you  something  now  and 
then  to  do  for  me.  I  have  a  paper  upon  spirit- 
ualism, "Ghosts  and  Haunted  Houses,"  that  I'll 
work  over  and  send  to  you  for  the  first  "job." 

I  am  to  lecture  before  the  Society  of  Psychol- 
ogy on  the  Qth  of  October.  Subject,  "Psychical 
Phenomena."  It  is  in  some  sense  an  answer 
to  a  lecture  delivered  there  this  month.  I  do 
not  believe  in  the  supermundane  explanation 
of  spiritualistic  phenomena,  as  they  are  mostly 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  135 

fraud;   and  what  is  not  fraud  admits  of  another 
better  explanation. 

I  must  say  good-night,  and  seek  my  couch, 
or  I  shall  be  unfit  for  my  duties  on  the  morrow. 
I  have  just  had  a  waking  dream.  In  it  I  visited 
the  spot  where  we  said  our  last  farewell.  Ah! 
little  thought  we  it  was  our  last!  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  saw  in  my  dream  in  my  regular  letter, 
Sunday. 

Good-night  Mousie.  Love  to  Freckles,  and  to 
the  Little  Brown  Mouse  also. 

Yours, 

V.  DE  W. 

EVERY  NIGHT. 
(An  Acrostic.) 

Every  night  ere  I  go  to  sleep, 

Lovingly  I  breathe  this  prayer: 
Grant  thy  love,  Lord,  to  safely  keep 

And  shield  her  from  all  harm  and  care; 

God, 

Remember  that  I  love  her 
And  that  she's  all  the  world  to  me ; 

Cancel  every  evil,  confer 
Every  blessing  that  may  be ; 

Thy 

Untold  love  may  her  gift  be, 

Till  she  shall,  in  the  great  unknown 

Enrolled  be,  and  then  let  me 

Linger  not,  but  soon  join  my  own. 

Amen. 


136  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

N. 

CHICAGO,  Oct.  2,  1898. 
Grade,  Dear: — 

All  of  your  letters  are  good  and  just  like  your 
own  dear  self,  characteristic.  I  like  to  see  peo- 
ple with  queer  combinations,  as  you  call  them. 
They  are  always  interesting  and  generally  orig- 
inal. Your  words,  phrases  and  sentences  were 
all  perfectly  and  correctly  good.  Perhaps  a 
little  too  much  so.  It  was  the  spirit  the  letter 
breathed.  It  was  cold  and  almost  formal,  and 
made  me  feel  that  you  were  cross  with  me.  It 
held  me  off  at  arm's  length,  and  lacked  the  usual 
I-take-you-into-my-confidence  spirit  that  I  am 
so  fond  of.  But  you  know,  I  have  forgiven, 
and  have  almost  forgotten  all  about  it  in  the 
pleasure  that  the  other  letters  have  brought. 
This  one  before  me  makes  me  want  to  say  some- 
thing sweet  and  appropriate  for  the  mark  of 
confidence  it  shows.  I  dare  not  say  all  I  feel, 
lest  you  should  misjudge  me.  I  can  hardly 
understand  it  myself.  You  have  grown  very 
dear  to  me,  and  you  are  the  only  influence  strong 
enough  to  turn  me  from  my  books.  Often,  as 
I  read,  a  face, — your  face, — comes  between  me 
and  the  page  I  am  reading,  and  I  close  my  eyes 
and  indulge  in  one  of  my  day  dreams.  The  face 
is  always  welcome,  dearie.  I  wish  it  were  the 
real  face.  "Every  night  as  I  go  to  sleep  my 
lips  softly  breathe  this  prayer."  I  close  my 
eyes  and  seek  the  face  and  it  rarely  fails  to  come. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  137 

Now  you  know  why  the  poem  should  not  be  sent 
to  mother;  it  was  written  to  you  as  an  acrostic. 
Probably  you  have  already  guessed  the  truth. 

Don't  you  think  you  are  a  little  inconsistent, 
Mousie?  You  say  that  after  this  nothing  will 
be  kept  from  me,  and  that  is  as  it  should  be. 
You  must  tell  me  all  about  yourself.  Now  this 
is  the  inconsistency.  You  say,  "other  plans  of 
mine  I  am  not  going  to  tell  even  you."  The 
least  of  your  plans  are  of  importance  to  me,  and 
this  central  plan  which  means  so  much  to  you, 
don't  you  think  I  would  like  to  know  and  help 
you  carry  it  to  completion?  Besides,  if  it  should 
fall  through,  you  would  need  someone  to  tell 
about  it  who  would  sympathize  with  you.  You 
say  I  must  speak  more  plainly,  and  say  what  I 
think,  and  I  try  to  obey.  Now,  don't  you  think 
it  would  be  better  if  you  made  no  exception 
and  "'fessed  up"  the  whole  truth,  then  we  can 
plan  and  discuss  the  plans  together? 

Right  you  are.  Do  one  thing  at  a  time.  But 
I  doubt  if  you  have  wasted  much  time  reading. 
"Reading  maketh  a  full  man/'  it  is  said.  The 
opportunity  will  come  when  all  you  have  read 
and  studied  will  be  of  use,  and  never  mind  the 
lost  opportunities,  they  do  not  return.  Others 
will  come.  Make  the  most  of  them.  Regrets 
are  useless. 

"The  moving  finger  writes,  and  having  writ 
"Moves  on,  nor  all  our  piety  or  wit, 
"Can  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  line, 
"Nor  all  our  tears  wash  out  a  word  of  it." 


138  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Your  work  is  quite  satisfactory,  and  you  may 
consider  yourself  engaged.  The  paper  will  be 
sent  as  soon  as  I  can  go  over  it  and  make  some 
changes  that  are  needed.  I  fear  that  you  have 
forgotten  my  threat  to  scold  you  for  belittling 
your  work  and  yourself,  for  you  are  doing  it 
again.  Of  course,  it  is  a  crime  to  destroy  your 
poems  and  you  are  a  naughty  girl  for  doing  it. 
In  due  time  I  shall  look  for  your  version  of 
"A  Previous  Friendship,"  and  I  am  sure  that 
your  fears  are  groundless,  for  you  will  succeed. 

By  the  way,  your  quotation,  "The  proper 
study  of  mankind  is  man,"  is  from  Pope.  I 
heard  a  minister  not  long  ago  say  that  Pope  was 
wrong  about  that;  that  man's  proper  study  is 
God. 

Your  presence  at  my  lectures  during  the  week 
is  inspiring  and  helpful.  I  am  sure  that  your 
thoughts  do  at  times  reach  me,  for  I  feel  them. 

I  am  glad  you  seldom  dress  up,  and  hope  it 
may  not  be  on  one  of  those  occasions  when  you 
have  your  photo  taken,  for  I  want  you  as  you 
generally  are,  and  as  I  saw  you.  I  think  I  shall 
have  it  but  that  would  be  like  counting  chickens 
before  they  hatch.  You  will  not  care  what  I 
have  done  with  it — will  you? 

Hearing  you  play  and  sing,  and  seeing  your 
art  work  are  among  the  things  that  I  missed  by 
not  seeing  you  when  I  returned.  You  missed 
something  too,  for  I  had  some  Indian  souvenirs 
that  I  secured  up  in  Dakota.  I  meant  to  divide 
with  you,  you  know. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  139 

Freckles  is  a  naughty  dog,  and  not  nearly  so 
faithful  as  you  think.  Just  see  how  he  has 
treated  my  confidence.  I  sent  him  so  that  I  might 
have  a  friend  at  court,  and  what  has  the  little 
rascal  done?  Why,  he  has  forgotten  my  inter- 
ests and  is  making  the  most  of  his  opportunities 
to  advance  his  own  selfish  ends.  You,  yourself 
but  recently  complained  that  he  had  failed  to 
deliver  my  messages.  It  is  a  case  like  John 
Alden  in  "Miles  Standish."  Perhaps  I  wrong 
his  dogginess,  for  your  conclusion  gives  me  the 
first  place  when  you  say:  "I  know  I  can  pin 
my  faith  to  you,  and  — can  trust  him  too."  In 
any  case  I  am  glad  I  sent  him,  since  he  is  so 
much  to  you.  Dogs  are  worthy  illustrations  of 
faithfulness,  and  we  would  do  well  to  learn  from 
them. 

It  is  sweet  to  learn  that  you  put  some  depend- 
ence upon  me,  and  I  shall  try  to  understand  and 
appreciate  the  honor  you  confer,  until  such  a 
time  as  you  shall  find  words  to  tell  me.  It  will 
help  to  make  me  a  better  man  to  know  that  I 
am  elected  to  lend  a  hand  to  a  pure,  noble- 
minded  woman  in  her  efforts  to  reach  a  worthy 
place  in  the  world. 

Let  us  be  perfectly  frank  with  each  other, 
dearie,  and  say  what  we  think  and  feel.  Tf 
what  I  say  is  helpful  to  you,  don't  you  think  the 
same  would  be  true  of  what  you  say  to  me? 
I  shall  never  be  less  a  friend  to  you  than  I  am 
now. 

The  dream  must  be  told,  for  I  promised  that 


140  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

I  would  tell  you  of  it  in  this  letter.  I  will  make 
it  short.  It  was  not  all  a  dream,  but  partly  a 
memory. 

Suddenly  as  I  sat  in  my  chair  thinking,  I  was 
transported  from  my  den  to  Capitol  Hill.  It 
was  night — a  beautiful  summer  night — and  I 
seemed  to  be  carried  back  to  a  scene  and  ex- 
perience which  occurred  three  months  ago.  It 
was  my  farewell  night  in  your  city.  I  was  not 
alone;  you  were  with  me;  and  I  lived  over 
again  that  memorable  night.  Do  you  remem- 
ber how  we  sat  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  looking 
northward  over  the  city,  at  the  brightly  lighted 
Exposition?  How  plainly  I  saw  it  all  again! 
And  how  real  your  presence  seemed !  You  were 
seated  leaning  against  the  small  tree  trunk,  and 
I,  because  the  tree  was  small,  had  to  rest  my 
face  against  your  arm.  Do  you  remember  how 
I  caught  the  little  hands  and  held  them  both 
in  my  large  palm,  and  lifted  them  to  my  lips 
and  kissed  the  tiny  fingers  and  the  soft  palms 
while  you  were  talking,  and  you  pretended  not 
to  notice  my  daring  deed?  It  is  possible  you 
did  not  notice  it.  At  any  rate  I  did  it  all  over 
again,  and  seemed  to  feel  the  arm  and  hands 
and  your  warm  breath  when  I  patted  your 
omooth  cheek.  How  hard  I  found  it  to  say 
good-night  and  leave  you !  No  part  of  the  scene 
was  lacking.  I  seemed  to  have  the  right  to  ask 
a  farewell  kiss,  but  I  got  your  words :  "  No,  don't 
you  think  that  I  have  been  pretty  good  to  you?" 
I  touched  your  sweet  face  with  my  lips  as  we 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  141 

started  toward  your  home.  Then  I  came  back 
to  consciousness  and  found  that  I  had  fallen 
asleep  and  dreamed.  How  feebly  words  por- 
tray our  feelings!  What  seems  so  tame,  now 
that  I  have  told  it,  was  in  reality,  a  glorious  vis- 
ion, with  all  the  warmth  and  color  of  real  life. 

I  had  nearly  forgotten  to  say  something  of 
Miss  Good,  whom  I  met  at  your  bureau.  I  am 
sorry  for  her  troubles,  and  glad  that  they  are  so 
nearly  over.  I  hope  that  her  fondest  hopes  may 
be  fully  realized  in  her  marriage.  Now,  if  you 
would  be  pleased,  I  will  send  you  a  bracelet 
something  like  yours,  and  you  may  present  it 
to  her  as  your  wedding  gift.  What  do  you  say, 
shall  we  do  it?  I  think  you  told  me  of  the 
wrong  she  did  you,  but  I  have  forgotten  about 
it.  You  see  I  remember  some  things  better  than 
others.  I  recall  that  she  was  unhappy  at  home 
and  engaged  to  be  married,  but  the  rest  has 
vanished. 

Chicago  Day  at  the  Exposition  was  evidently 
a  success  judging  from  the  accounts  in  our  papers 
of  "how  we  took  the  city."  I'll  cut  out  and 
send  you,  under  another  cover,  some  of  the 
illustrations  which  explain  it.  Some  of  them 
are  rather  good,  I  think.  Others,  the  less  said 
of  them  the  better.  Your  artist's  eye  will  tell 
you  which  is  which,  and  so  I  submit  them  sans 
comment. 

Instead  of  a  formal  farewell  or  finis,  let  me 
break  off  a  tiny  flower  and  send  it,  that  its 


142  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

fragrance    and   beauty   may   convey   in   subtle 
form  a  more  acceptable  ending. 
You  shall  ere  long  hear  again  from 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

P.  S.  Are  you  exhausted?  My  "Chicago 
Day  "  was  your  letter. 

V. 

o. 

CHICAGO,  OCT.  5,  1898. 
My  Dear  Gracie: — 

I  am  cross  with  everybody  except  my  Little 
Brown  Mouse,  and  I  have  come  to  chat  with 
you  and  tell  you  how  glad  I  was  to  receive  your 
unexpected  letter;  it  was  such  a  nice  sympa- 
thetic letter,  and  you  are  a  dear,  sweet  girl  for 
sending  it.  I  wish  it  had  been  yourself  instead 
of  a  letter,  and  that  you  were  here  now  so  that 
I  might  chat  with  you  in  person.  I  want  to 
touch  you  and  make  sure  that  you  are  a  reality 
and  not  only  an  ideal,  un-realized  and  unsub- 
stantial. I  find  myself  wondering.  Did  I  really 
find  a  little  girl  "out  West"  who  is  my  ideal? 
Did  I  talk  with  her  and  touch  her?  Or  did  I 
dream  it?  It  is  very  like  a  dream,  dearie,  and 
yet  I  know  it  was  not  all  a  dream.  People  who 
meet  in  dreams  do  not  write  letters  that  come 
through  the  mail,  but  you  do,  so  I  am  sure  that 
you  are  real,  and  that  you  will  not  fade  away 
into  thin  air. 

Yes,  the  coin  is  lucky,  as  is  everything  that 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  143 

I  send  to  you.  And  many  times  a  day  I  send 
special  thoughts  to  the  same  end,  so  you  cannot 
possibly  be  unlucky  any  more.  I  have  wondered 
what  strong  influence  had  left  its  plain  impression 
upon  you.  "The  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow"  is 
the  result  of  some  influence  in  your  life.  I  do 
not  know  what  it  is.  We  are  all  what  we  are, 
not  so  much  from  hereditary  influence  as  from 
environment.  As  infants  we  are  as  wax,  to  be 
moulded  into  men  and  women.  As  men  and 
women  we  are  what  we  are  by  reason  of  the 
impressions  made  upon  our  receptive  natures 
during  our  development.  Every  influence 
makes  an  indelible  impression.  This  feeling  is 
unnatural,  and  I  shall  help  you  to  overcome  it. 
It  is  you  who  write,  only  you  are  not  fully  mis- 
tress of  yourself.  Keep  trying  until  you  succeed. 
I  am  so  glad  you  like  the  little  poem,  and  hope 
you  like  it  even  more  now  that  you  know  that 
I  wrote  it  for  you.  You  are  my  inspiration,  so 
if  I  say  anything  unusual  it  is  because  you  have 
inspired  the  beautiful  thoughts.  I  cannot  find 
words  adequate  to  put  many  of  them  into  sen- 
tences. I  love  to  think  them  just  the  same, 
for  they  lift  me  out  of  the  ordinary  worries  of 
life,  and  set  me  on  a  higher  plain.  Your  praise 
is  very  pleasant,  and  I  am  sure  to  try  to  win 
more  of  it  by  new  attempts  anon.  I  think  I 
will  send  a  copy  of  your  poem  to  mother,  but 
shall  not  call  her  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  it 
an  acrostic.  She,  like  yourself,  is  a  partial  critic^ 


144  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

and  I  am  sure  to  get  a  complimnt  for  every 
effort  I  make. 

I  am  seeking  an  opportunity  to  prepare  your 
"first  job,"  but  it  is  a  manuscript  that  I  wrote 
for  my  own  reading,  and  I  fear  you  will  find  it 
a  little  difficult  to  read.  However,  you  ought 
to  be  somewhat  familiar  with  my  chirography 
after  wading  through  my  letters.  Also,  I  must 
make  some  changes  in  the  text,  as  I  delivered  it 
upon  a  special  occasion,  and  it  smacks  of  the 
occasion.  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  wish  to  do 
it  for  me.  I  am  sure  you  ought  to  be  worthy 
of  a  high  price,  for  I  know  you  will  be  compe- 
tent and  reliable.  I  expect  you  to  be  able  to 
report  lectures,  sermons  and  the  like  by  spring. 
There  are  plenty  of  cheap  stenographers.  You 
must  be  first-class.  You  see  how  high  I  expect 
you  to  climb. 

Yes,  the  ninth  is  Sunday,  and  I  shall  know 
you  are  there.  You  would  most  certainly  under- 
stand all  of  the  lecture,  for  it  will  be  a  popular 
address,  explaining  the  natural  causes  of  the 
phenomena  that  the  spiritualists  refer  to  super- 
mundane agencies. 

I  expect  to  have  the  lecture  stenographed, 
and  then  after  revision  it  might  furnish  a  sec- 
ond "job"  for  my  private  secretary. 

You  may  have  a  trick  of  dreaming,  but  you 
don't  seem  to  have  the  trick  of  "  'fessing  up  " 
as  I  do.  Did  you  ever  read  the  story  "Peter 
Ibitson,"  by  du  Maurier  ?  If  so,  you  will  recall  the 
strange  account  of  visiting  in  dreams,  while 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  145 

residing  far  apart,  "dreaming  true"  it  is  there 
described. 

No,  you  and  I  would  not  have  minded  the 
weather,  because  we  should  not  have  paraded 
about  in  it.  We  would  have  sought  out  some 
cozy  corner  and  visited. 

My  fellow  townsmen  seemed  to  fare  well  at 
the  hands  of  your  townsmen  on  Chicago  Day; 
at  any  rate,  they  returned  filled  with  strong 
enthusiasm,  or  something  else,  bringing  glowing 
accounts  of  your  hospitality  and  enterprise. 

After  this  little  chat  with  "my  private  sec- 
retary" (to  be)  I  feel  that  I  can  study  better, 
and  shall  turn  my  attention  to  the  preparation 
of  a  lecture  to  deliver  to-morrow  morning. 

"Farewell!    a  word  that  must  be  and  hath 
been, 

"A  sound  which  makes  us  linger,  yet  fare- 
well." 

Love  to  Mousie  and  Freckles, 

VAL  DE  W. 

P. 

CHICAGO    OCT.  9,  1898. 
Gracie,  Dear: — 

How  good  it  is  to  have  a  friend  like  you  who 
appreciates  every  little  attention  and  effort  that 
one  makes  in  her  behalf.  To  be  sure  I  wrote 
the  poem  for  you.  There  could  be  no  mistake ; 
it  speaks  for  itself.  I  thought  the  question  I 
asked  about  it  might  lead  to  your  finding  out 


146  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

the  truth,  but  no  matter,  you  know  now  that 
it  did  not  just  happen  to  have  your  name  run- 
ning through  it.  Modesty  never  hurts  anyone, 
and  now  I  know  that  anything  I  am  likely  to 
say  will  not  turn  your  head.  I  would  not  have 
you  otherwise.  I  like  you  just  as  you  are. 
That  is  why  I  was  daring  on  that  last  night.  It 
never  occurred  to  me  that  you  were  cold.  Nor 
is  it  true.  Yours  is  a  deep  nature — so  deep  that 
a  superficial  observer  would  never  guess  that 
such  a  warm,  loving  heart  is  buried  in  that 
seemingly  cold  breast.  There  is  little  chance 
for  question,  in  my  mind,  at  to  what  you  will 
do  when  the  chance  comes.  He  should  be  a 
happy  man  who  is  loved  by  you.  It  will  not  be 
a  half-hearted  love. 

Love  should  be  concealed  from  the  vulgar 
gaze,  but  not  from  its  object.  I  once  read  a 
little  poem  that  settled  my  opinion  in  the  matter. 
I  have  forgotten  the  singer,  but  I'll  never  for- 
get the  song.  The  refrain  ran:  "If  you  love 
her  tell  her  so."  It  had  reference  to  married 
people  drifting  apart  and  growing  cold.  This 
has  been  a  fault  in  our  family  too.  Perhaps 
that  is  why  I  felt  the  force  of  the  poem.  At 
any  rate  it  started  a  thrill  in  my  heart  that  vi- 
brates still. 

I  am  all  dressed  for  the  ball,  more  correctly 
the  reception  at  the  Hospital,  but  it  is  a  little 
early  yet,  so  I  thought  I'd  begin  my  letter  to 
you.  I  have  so  much  to  say  that  I  fear  I'll  not 
find  time  to  write  it  all  down  tomorrow.  I 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  147 

have  several  calls  to  make  in  the  morning,  and 
the  aforesaid  lecture  in  the  afternoon.  I  wish 
that  you  were  here  to  go  with  me  to  the  recep- 
tion. Then  I  could  tell  you  everything  as  we 
went,  and  as  we  chatted  while  there. 

After  your  gracious  words  about  my  last 
poem  I  feel  as  though  I  could  talk  poetry,  and 
so  shall  try  to  answer  your  question  about  "my 
dreaming  time  "  in  a  rhyme,  and  if  I  succeed  I 
shall  send  it  with  this  letter. 

Ten-thirty  P.  M. 

I  am  back  from  the  reception,  having  heard 
several  addresses,  and  having  paid  my  re- 
spects to  the  ice  cream  and  cake.  Now  I  will 
go  on  with  your  letter  but  not  in  rhyme;  my 
muse  does  not  move  me.  I  wish  I  could  write 
down  and  send  the  beautiful  thoughts  of  you 
that  drift  like  summer  clouds  across  the  sky 
of  my  mind. 

I  think  the  complement  of  the  new  element 
which  has  entered  your  life  has  entered  mine, 
and  that  explains  the  great  joy  and  sorrow 
whose  union  cause  the  commotion  in  my  heart. 
I  understand  now  why  the  Germans  speak  of 
their  loved  ones  as  their  "joy  and  sorrow." 
It  is  sweet  sorrow,  like  tears  of  joy. 

I  wish  you  could  share  your  hope  or  plan  with 
me.  You  must  know  by  now  that  everything, 
even  things  which  do  "not  amount  to  anything/' 
if  they  concern  you  are  important  to  me.  How- 
ever, I  want  to  know  nothing  which  is  not  abso- 
lutely voluntary.  Do  not  think  tha  I  want 


148  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

to  force  you  to  confide  in  me.  I  am  not  your 
confessor,  dearie,  I  am  only  your  friend,  but 
I  shall  be  a  faithful  friend.  I  have  been  that 
since  one  night  last  summer.  My  heart  went 
out  to  you  then,  and  you  have  not  been  out  of 
my  mind  long  at  a  time  since.  I  think  that 
was  the  first  night  I  said  the  prayer. 

You  want  to  be  a  court  reporter?  That  will 
be  worthy  of  my  little  girl.  I  am  glad  to  know 
you  are  ambitious,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  suc- 
ceed. I  am  ambitious  for  you. 

What  am  I  going  to  do  with  the  picture  ?  No, 
not  what  you  say  that  I  did  with  the  one  I  told 
you  of.  But  I  shall  keep  my  secret  until  I  get 
the  picture.  However,  I  accept  the  conditions. 
Indeed,  I'd  accept  almost  any  condition  in  order 
to  get  it. 

Did  you  give  my  picture  what  you  refused 
me?  Then  you  need  not.  I  prefer  that  you 
save  it  for  me.  I  hear  the  echo  now,  "Don't 
you  think  I've  been  pretty  good  to  you?"  Yes, 
you  have  been  the  sweetest  and  dearest  little 
lady  in  the  whole  world,  and  I  thank  God  every 
night  for  you.  I  say  a  lot  more  than  what  I 
wrote  to  you  in  the  poem.  I  am  like  the  little 
boy  whose  mamma  heard  him  saying  other 
words  besides  the  prayer  she  had  taught  him, 
and  asked  him  what  he  was  saying.  He  replied 
that  he  was  asking  God  some  other  things. 
Every  night  I  ask  God  some  other  things. 

See  the  top  of  the  page, — ten.  I'll  say  good- 
night and  finish  on  the  morrow.  There  shall 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  149 

be  no  limit,  dear.  One  must  be  harder  hearted 
than  I  am  to  resist  your  sweet  compliments. 
It  makes  me  so  happy  to  know  that  you  care 
for  me  and  my  letters.  I  wish  I  had  the  little 
hand  that  wrote  those  words.  I'd  kiss  every 
little  finger  good-night,  and  again  good-night. 

Sunday  morning  has  come  bright  and  beau- 
tiful; only  the  brown  leaves  falling  from  the 
trees  and  littering  the  walks  and  grass  pro- 
claim the  autumn  season.  I  have  just  returned 
from  making  calls,  and  feel  the  influence  of  the 
balmy  air  and  warm  sunshine.  How  peaceful 
all  nature  seems!  Surely  we  ought  to  be  happy, 
nor  let  little  cares  and  worries  make  us  forget 
the  many  blessings  that  we  enjoy.  Here  is  a 
little  clipping  that  mother  sent  in  her  last  letter. 
She  is  more  religious  than  her  son,  and  she  often 
sends  clippings  which  express  her  feelings  and 
point  him  to  the  Throne  of  Mercy.  Bless  her 
dear  heart,  it  is  her  mother's  love  that  makes 
her  care!  Thank  God  your  mother  also,  has 
the  mother  love  for  her  little  girl,  else  what 
would  have  become  of  her.  To  struggle  on 
alone  is  hard  indeed,  but  such  sympathy  and 
encouragement  aid  us  over  the  rough  places  in 
the  road  toward  success.  Blessed  is  the  man 
who  has  a  few  sympathizing  friends.  I  rejoice 
to  know  that  your  mother  understands  you. 
The  carelessness  of  others  does  not  matter  so 
much  when  you  have  such  a  friend. 

I  shall  post  this  letter  before  I  go  to  the  meet- 
ing, lest  I  should  not  return  till  late  to-night. 


150  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

The  meeting  is  usually  long,  lasting  from  three 
to  nearly  six  p.  m.  I  think  I  shall  go  to  the 
club  for  supper,  and  then  remain  down  town 
during  the  evening.  It  is  not  so  easy  for  me 
to  go  down  town  as  it  is  for  you.  I  live  over 
three  miles  from  the  heart  of  the  city.  The  ele- 
vated train  takes  us  down  in  fifteen  minutes, 
which  is  not  bad. 

I  expect  to  feel  your  presence  as  I  talk  to-day, 
and  I  am  sure  it  will  enable  me  to  speak  well,  I 
had  almost  said  eloquently.  I  could  do  so  on 
some  subjects,  I  am  sure. 

Much  in  your  letter  is  still  unanswered,  but 
time  forbids  me  prolonging  this  epistle.  I  shall 
probably  find  time  to  write  again  during  the 
week.  I  never  seem  to  have  said  half  of  what 
I  want  to  when  I  am  forced  to  close  and  say 
farewell. 

I  shall  not  have  time  to  read  this  letter  over 
before  sending  it.  In  fact,  I  fear  it  would  not 
stand  the  test  of  impartial  criticism,  and  might 
find  its  way  into  the  waste  basket  if  I  did,  so  I 
shall  turn  it  over  to  my  private  secretary,  trust- 
ing to  her  good  sense,  its  destruction  or  not. 

Love  to  the  Little  Brown  Mouse  and  to  Freck- 
les. Au  revoir, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

Q. 

CHICAGO,  OCT.   12,  1898. 
Dear  Grace: — 

I   am  glad  that   you  remember  that   "last 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  151 

evening"  of  which  I  so  often  think.  I  wonder 
if  it  makes  as  bright  a  spot  in  your  life  as  it  does 
in  mine.  My  heart  is  thrilled  by  its  memories 
still.  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  you  notice 
many  things  that  you  appear  quite  indifferent 
to,  and,  I  am  sure,  that  some  events  make  their 
impressions  deep  enough  to  pass  through  the 
outer  shield  of  reserve  and  touch  the  heart  of 
the  woman  beneath.  Was  that  such  an  event 
to  you?  Have  I  had  the  unusual  privilege  of  a 
glimpse  of  a  deeper  nature,  the  real  affectionate 
woman  ? 

Sunday  passed — the  lecture  was  given.  Your 
presence  must  have  accounted  for  my  success, 
for  it  was  great  and  unusual.  It  was  one  of  the 
few  times  that  I  talked  like  one  inspired.  You 
were  my  inspiration,  if  I  mistake  not.  When  I 
had  been  introduced,  having  addressed  the  chair- 
man and  the  audience,  I  thought  of  you  and 
your  promise  to  be  with  me  in  spirit,  and  I 
seemed  to  feel  your  presence.  Then  I  talked 
for  an  hour,  making  my  friends  proud  and  my 
opponents  rebellious.  I  am  not  bragging,  little 
one,  but  just  telling  you  the  facts,  so  that  you 
may  know  how  much  you  helped  me.  To  think 
of  you  makes  me  ambitious  and  fearless.  I 
have  to  tell  you  this  else  you  could  never  know 
for  my  stenographer  failed  to  appear  and  take 
the  address.  I  have  saved  little  more  than  an 
outline  of  it  and  shall  send  it  to  you  as  the  first 
job,  if  you  will  kindly  write  it  out  for  me.  It  is 
not  what  I  said,  but  goes  over  the  same  ground. 


152  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

I  wrote  it  out  hurriedly,  almost  at  a  sitting,  and 
fear  my  haste  may  be  your  annoyance,  for  it 
is  not  quite  plain.  Do  not  let  it  worry  you,  and 
if  there  is  a  doubt  give  the  dictionary  the  benefit 
of  it.  If  we  consider  this  outline  a  part  of  this 
letter,  we  shall  for  once,  have  a  letter  that  is 
too  long.  Up  to  date,  you  have  written  the 
longest  letter,  fifteen  pages. 

Do  you  believe  in  charms?  I  have  never 
thought  that  much  depended  upon  luck,  but 
have  rather  emphasized  the  value  of  pluck  and 
perseverance.  It  may  be,  however,  that  with 
reference  to  marriage  there  is  an  opportunity 
for  the  advantageous  use  of  a  charm,  and  I  hope 
that  in  Miss  Good's  case  it  may  abundantly 
succeed.  At  any  rate,  I  remember  the  old  saw 
which  says: 

"Wear  something  old  and  something  new, 
"Something  borrowed  and  something  blue," 
If  I  ever  make  a  venture  in  that  line  I  shall 
surely  try  to  borrow  something  from  you  for  a 
charm,  and  if  that  did  not  protect  me,  I'd  be 
certain  nothing  would. 

I  should  much  rather  overrate  than  underrate 
you.  However,  I  try  to  do  neither,  but  try  to 
see  you  just  as  your  real  qualities  merit.  It  will 
not  be  your  fault  if  I  rate  you  too  highly,  for  if 
you  do  not  run  yourself  down,  you  certainly  do 
not  sing  your  own  praises.  I  had  occasion  to 
warn  you  in  this  particular  some  weeks  ago,  for 
the  reason  that,  if  we  do  not  appreciate  our- 
selves, others  will  not  be  likely  to  appreciate  us. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  153 

I  do  not  think  I  am  wrong  in  my  estimate  if  I 
did  arrive  at  it  quickly.  It  should  not  be  diffi- 
cult, nor  take  a  long  time  to  recognize  an  ideal, 
especially  when  the  ideal  has  been  for  a  long, 
long  time,  treasured  in  the  mind  of  its  pos- 
sessor. What  you  say  of  yourself  only  adds  to 
my  profound  respect  and  great  admiration,  for 
it  shows  you  to  be  modest  and  self-denying,  as 
well  as  competent.  Perhaps  you  have  been 
too  ready  to  adjust  yourself  to  the  convenience 
of  others.  We  cannot  all  be  Christs,  and  empty 
ourselves  for  the  sake  of  others,  but  it  is  good 
to  follow  Him,  even  if  we  "follow  afar  off." 

I  feel  that  I  have  missed  much  in  not  hearing 
your  music  and  seeing  your  art  work.  I  am  not 
hard  to  please,  and  I  confess  that  your  having 
done  them  would  go  far  toward  satisfying  me. 
I  should  not  be  an  impartial  judge  and  I  think 
that  you  would  not  be  impartial  with  my  pro- 
ductions. 

I  am  informed  by  the  newspapers  that  your 
distinguished  guest,  the  President,  has  arrived 
in  your  city,  and  that  you  have  done  yourselves 
proud  in  your  hearty  welcome.  We  are  to  have 
him  next  and  shall  strive  to  creditably  follow 
your  example.  Our  Peace  Jubilee  is  to  be  both 
munificent  and  magnificent.  Arches  have  been 
and  are  being  erected  at  intervals  along  our 
streets  and  most  of  the  buildings  will  be  gor- 
geously decorated  for  the  festive  occasion. 

Thank  you,  for  telling  your  manner  of  reading 
my  letters,  and  the  proof  that  they  cannot  be 


154  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

too  long,  for  it  gives  me  a  plain  glimpse  of  your 
feelings  with  reference  to  them  and  to  me,  and 
makes  me  very  happy.  I  feel  that  I  should  be 
daring  again  if  you  were  within  reach.  As  it  is, 
I  will  tell  you  something  in  return.  When  your 
letters  come,  if  I  am  alone,  or  as  soon  as  I  am 
alone  with  them,  I  salute  the  little  red  seal  with 
its  maple  leaf  impression,  which  stands  for  you, 
according  to  the  Biblical  injunction.  And  after 
reading  it,  salute  the  signature  in  the  same  way, 
only  more  times.  Now,  don't  you  think  you 
ought  to  spell  the  name  out  in  full,  instead  of 
signing  simply  "G." 

I  have  corrected  my  poem  and  respectfully 
submit  it  to  my  critic.  "The  merciful  shall 
obtain  mercy."  What  does  she  think?  How 
goes  the  work  on  your  poem?  If  my  effusions 
discourage  you  they  shall  cease ! 

There  is  a  little  shiver  in  the  air  to-day,  an  hint 
at  colder  days  to  come,  when  to  sit  in  a  warm 
room  and  commune  with  a  book  or  a  friend  will 
be  delightful.  On  those  nights  I'll  be  doubly 
sorry  that  we  are  so  far  apart. 

I  wish  I  might  see  you  sometimes,  dearie. 
Will  the  days  ever  come?     What  does  my  lady 
see  in  the  distance?     She  is  my  prophetess — 
let  her  prophesy.     She  is  my  everything. 
'Cause  every  evil  to  pass  over, 
"Every  blessing  hers  to  be." 
Yours, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  155 

MY  DREAMING  TIME. 

My  dreaming  time  is  any  time 

When  I  may  dream  of  you ; 
Some  days  I  dream,  some  nights  I  dream, 

And  would  my  dreams  were  true. 

I  see  you  stand  with  hat  in  hand 

Returning  from  our  stroll ; 
Your  face  so  fair  and  eyes  so  rare 

Make  havoc  in  my  soul. 

Down  from  the  hill,  the  wooded  hill, 

Where  we  said  our  last  farewell 
As  friends  oft  do  in  words  so  few, 

Words  feelings  cannot  tell. 

Little  thought  we  no  more  we'd  see 

The  eyes  so  speaking  them; 
But  fate  is  wise  thus  to  disguise 

The  future  from  our  ken. 

How  real  they  seem  as  now  I  dream 

Those  dear  days  o'er  and  o'er, 
I  see  each  place  and  your  fair  face, 

Just  as  in  days  of  yore. 

Would  we  regret  if  we  had  met 

When  I  went  back  again, 
Hoping  to  find — Ah,  love  is  blind! — 

Who  knows  what  might  have  been? 

Our  hopes  oft  fail,  our  lips  grow  pale, 

Before  Fate's  hard  decrees ; 
Our  castles  fall  with  crumbling  wall, 

Though  love  pleads  on  his  knees. 


156  THE    FULFILLING    OP    THE    LAW. 

And  it  is  well  for  who  can  tell 

What  blessings  hide  in  loss? 
Oft  what  we  choose  we  could  but  lose ; 

Choosing  for  gold  what's  dross. 

So  my  dreaming  time  is  any  time 

When  I  may  dream  of  you ; 
Some  days  I  dream,  some  nights  I  dream, 

And  would  my  dreams  were  true. 

R. 

CHICAGO,  Oct.  16.  1898. 
Dear  Oracle: — 

Tired  and  blue,  with  a  great  ache  in  my  heart, 
I  turn  to  you  for  sympathy  and  comfort.  In 
you,  God  has  sent  one  of  His  beautiful  ministering 
angels  to  me.  I  had  thought  that  the  door  of 
my  heart  was  permanently  closed  to  all  senti- 
ment, but  His  angel  has  removed  all  the  bars 
and  barricades,  and  thrown  the  door  wide  open 
again;  and  I  hardly  know  whether  this  ache 
is  joy  or  sorrow.  At  any  rate,  something  has 
risen  in  my  throat,  like  a  lump,  and  had  to  be 
swallowed  again  with  something  like  a  sob.  I 
have  been  sitting  here  in  the  dark  with  my  head 
upon  my  folded  arms,  upon  my  desk,  thinking. 
But  no  matter  where  I  start,  before  long,  my 
mind  always  comes  back  to  you  and  I  go  over 
the  sweet  words  you  have  written  to  me,  and  I 
see  the  sweet  face  that  has  grown  so  dear.  I 
remember  how  you  told  me  to  write  to  you  when 
these  blue  times  come,  but  it  is  not  right,  dearie 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  157 

for  me  to  add  sorrow  to  your  already  sad  life; 
it  should  be  joy  or  nothing. 

I  was  blue  last  night  and  I  sat  here  a  long 
time  writing.  Shall  I  confess  it?  Yes,  I'll 
keep  nothing  back.  I  wrote  a  long  blue  letter 
to  you.  I  am  glad  I  did  not  send  it,  but  it  did 
me  good  to  let  a  full  heart  overflow.  Some- 
times, I  feel  as  if  my  heart  would  burst,  there  is 
such  a  commotion  going  on  in  it.  Perhaps  it 
will  quiet  down  after  a  little.  I  kept  it  some- 
what under  control  with  the  hope  that  your 
letter  would  come  to-day.  It  has  not  come.  It 
is  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears  of  disappointment. 
I  feel  like  sobbing  as  I  used  to  when  a  child.  I 
cannot  get  away  from  the  great  over-shadowing 
loneliness  that  has  fallen  upon  me.  I  went  rid- 
ing (horse-back)  with  a  party  yesterday,  and  to 
supper  afterwards,  but  it  was  only  temporary 
relief.  I  tell  myself  that  I  am  a  fool,  but  the 
condition  continues.  I  have  tried  to  lose  my- 
self in  books,  but  they  too  have  failed  me,  so 
nothing  remains  for  me  to  do,  but  to  come  to 
you.  I  wish  I  might  sit  near  enough  to  lean 
my  cheek  against  your  arm,  as  I  once  did,  but 
that  must  have  been  a  thousand  years  ago,  or 
else  it  was  all  a  dream. 

I  have  a  scheme  which  will  serve  to  save  you 
from  the  blue  letters  and  employ  me  as  well.  It 
is  to  write  out  the  synopsis  of  stories  which  I 
have  in  mind,  and  I  shall  begin  to-night.  The 
synopsis  will  be  fairly  full  so  that  you  can  get  a 
good  picture  of  my  hero  and  his  doings.  The 


158  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

first  one  will  be  the  story  of  a  young  man  in  his 
struggles  to  make  the  most  of  himself.  Of 
course,  he  is  not  perfect.  I  want  it  to  be  a  story 
true  to  life.  There  shall  be  no  impossibilities. 
It  is  life  as  we  see  it. 

Sunday  has  come  and  the  world  is  decked  out 
in  her  autumnal  glory.  The  sun  is  brightly 
shining  and  the  breezes  are  as  soft  and  balmy 
as  spring  time.  I  am  glad  that  it  is  so  pleasant, 
for  our  Jubilee  will  be  more  enjoyable.  The 
President  came  last  night  and  we  expect  to 
see  and  hear  him  this  afternoon  at  the  Audi- 
torium. Did  you  see  him  when  he  was  in  your 
city?  He  is  a  typical  American,  and  I  am  very 
proud  of  him.  He  has  most  successfully  steered 
the  ship  of  state  during  his  term. 

I  have  glanced  over  the  pages  written  of  the 
synopsis,  and  find  they  are  not  what  I  ought  to 
have  made  them,  but  shall  send  them  just  the 
same.  They  will  give  you  in  outline  what  I 
hope  to  tell  you  in  detail.  Reserve  your  judg- 
ment until  the  story  is  complete.  I  shall  try 
to  find  time  to  write  the  second  part  this  week. 

I  had  an  ugly  dream  last  night — it  was  about 
you — but  I  cannot  distinctly  recall  the  details 
or  I  would  tell  it  to  you.  I  guess  it  was  born 
of  a  fear  that  often  bobs  up  in  my  mind,  namely, 
that  somehow  I  shall  lose  you.  I  have  tried  to 
comfort  myself  by  the  old  saying  that  we  must 
reverse  our  dreams.  I  recall  a  scene  here  and 
there.  I  seemed  to  be  in  your  city  and  I  called 
at  your  home  for  you  and  found  you  waiting 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  159 

for  me,  and  your  greeting  was  most  cordial  and 
pleasant.  We  went  away  together  and  boarded 
a  street  car.  Then  I  lost  you  and  I  spent  the 
night  trying  to  find  you.  This  was  the  ugly 
part  of  the  dream.  You  were  always  glad 
when  I  found  you  and  seemed  to  want  to  go 
with  me,  but  again  and  again  I  seemed  to  lose  you. 

To-day  I  have  been  worrying  for  I  feel  that 
you  are  unhappy  again.  How  I  wish  I  could 
save  you  from  every  unpleasantness  and  care! 
It  would  be  worth  living  for,  just  to  make  you 
happy.  Let  me  help  you  if  possible,  dearie,  it 
will  make  me  happy  to  know  that  you  are  so. 
As  your  friend  you  have  a  perfect  right  to  use 
me. 

November  the  third,  I  am  to  give  another 
lecture.  I  am  going  to  give  an  illustrated  talk 
on  The  White  City.  It  will  be  illustrated  with 
a  large  number  of  views  of  the  World's  Fair.  I 
shall  try  to  get  a  few  views  of  your  White  City 
to  add  to  my  series.  The  magazines  for  October 
have  some  nice  things  to  say  about  your  White 
City.  I  am  sorry  we  did  not  see  it  together,  it 
would  have  been  a  lovely  setting  for  our  friend- 
ship; but  as  it  is,  the  setting  is  not  bad.  The 
parks  and  the  hills  were  beautiful  to  us  last  sum- 
mer, and  memory  does  not  picture  them  less 
so  now. 

You  will  think  me  a  mere  dreamer  if  I  go  on 
like  this,  so  I  shall  stop  my  dream  stories.  But 
I  cannot  promise  to  stop  my  dreams,  for  that 
is  the  only  way  I  have  of  seeing  you.  If  I  had 


l6o  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

you  here  to  read  to  me  and  to  discuss  the  read- 
ing with,  I  am  sure  I  should  never  get  blue,  but 
as  it  is  I  may  be  so  occasionally,  but  not  for 
long. 

I  have  a  patient  who  is  a  court  reporter,  and 
he  told  me  that  there  is  but  one  lady  court 
reporter  in  Chicago.  He  also  told  me  that  it  is 
a  pretty  hard  position  to  fill.  Men  are  inclined 
to  belittle  the  abilities  of  women  I  find,  but  I 
am  sure  you  can  and  will  succeed  in  the  under- 
taking. I  like  your  determination — "you  are 
made  of  the  right  stuff,"  as  the  saying  goes. 

I  am  going  to  the  rally  where  McKinley  is  to 
speak,  and  as  I  may  not  return  until  late,  and 
do  not  want  to  disappoint  the  Little  Brown 
Mouse,  I  shall  send  this  off  before  I  go.  I  shall 
get  my  letter  in  the  morning. 

May  He  keep  you  and  bless  you  as  He  does 
His  beloved. 

Faithfully, 
VAL. 

S. 

CHICAGO,  OCT.  ai,  1898. 
My  Dear  Gracie: — 

Please  look  into  your  desk  and  see  if  you  can- 
not find  a  letter  addressed  to  someone  in  this  city. 
I  know  a  person  here  who  has  been  greatly  disap- 
pointed at  not  receiving  a  letter.  He  has  anxiously 
awaited  the  arrival  of  th?  postman,  and  when 
he  failed  to  bring  the  hoped  for  letter,  he  has 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  l6l 

tried  to  be  brave  and  not  show  his  feelings,  but 
he  could  not  wholly  do  so  and  I  have  felt  sorry 
for  him,  he  looked  so  worried. 

I  have  no  letter  to  answer,  nothing  but  my 
own  thoughts,  but  it  would  be  no  small  task  to 
answer  them.  I  have  thought  so  many  things. 
I  will  only  mention  some  of  them.  I  have  won- 
dered if  I  have  offended  my  little  friend,  and 
have  gone  over  in  mind  all  that  I  wrote,  but 
failed  to  find  anything  that  you  would  not  over- 
look. I  know  I  have  said  many  things,  and 
perhaps  they  were  foolish  in  your  eyes,  but  God 
forbid  that  I  should  offend  you  in  word  or 
thought. 

Why  are  you  silent,  Mousie?  Suspense  is 
very  hard  to  bear.  Tell  me  what  the  matter 
is.  Are  you  ill  ?  You  could  hardly  believe  what 
awful  fears  have  harrassed  my  mind.  I  have 
said,  and  tried  to  believe  that  "no  news  is  good 
news,"  but  there  has  not  been  an  hour  in  the 
day,  and  but  few  at  night  when  I  have  not  felt 
the  anxiety  about  you.  I  must  know  soon — I 
cannot  stand  this  fearful  suspense.  Please  send 
me  some  word,  and  send  it  soon,  soon. 

I  cannot  believe  that  you  have  changed.  I 
have  read  and  reread  your  last  letter.  It  is  to 
me  the  sweetest  spirited  and  the  most  beautiful 
of  them  all.  So  modest  and  yet  so  bravely 
frank.  The  woman  who  wrote  that  letter  would 
not  let  any  small  thing  hinder  her  from  doing 
what  she  considered  right.  She  might  hesitate 
for  a  little,  but  in  the  end  she  would  be  strong, 


l62  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

and  act  the  part  of  a  noble  woman,  for  it  is  her 
nature. 

The  writing  of  the  synopsis  of  the  story,  of 
which  I  send  the  second  part  herewith,  has 
served  to  occupy  a  few  of  the  hours  that  have 
dragged  themselves  out  to  such  a  length.  It 
does  not  suit  me,  and  I  was  tempted  to  destroy 
it  and  try  again,  but  finally  resolved  to  send  it 
as  it  is.  Perhaps  it  will  give  you  some  concep- 
tion of  the  character  that  I  wish  to  portray. 

This  week  has  been  a  record  breaker  for 
gloominess;  the  weather  has  been  atrocious, 
but  the  Jubilee  spirit  could  not  be  quenched, 
and  the  fete  has  been  more  or  less  of  a  success. 
We  saw  the  President,  and  the  war  heroes,  and 
they  were  the  chief  things. 

I  ran  across  a  souvenir  of  the  World's  Fair 
the  other  day  and  send  it  as  an  addition  to  your 
collection  of  coins.  I  think  I  have  another 
somewhere,  but  at  present  it  is  not  in  evidence. 

I  shall  not  write  much  to-day,  for  I  would 
dwell  unduly  upon  my  disappointment.  Be- 
sides if  you  were  cross  with  me  for  anything 
you  will  not  want  a  long  letter,  and  if  you  are 
not  you  will  excuse  a  short  one. 

What  do  you  think  of  my  hero?  Perhaps  we 
will  let  the  story  end  there.  At  any  rate,  the 
end  has  not  been  clearly  seen. 

"A  friend  should  bear  his  friend's  infirmities," 
so  if  yours  has  erred,  forgive  him.  Let  me  ever 

be  your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  163 

T 

CHICAGO,  OCT.  23,  1898. 
Dear  Grade : — 

The  first  day  of  the  week  has  come  again, 
bringing  the  hour  that  I  have  spent,  lately,  chat- 
ting with  you,  and  I  find  myself  wanting  to 
chat  with  you  now,  although  no  word  has  come  to 
explain  your  strange  silence.  I  wonder  if  you 
will  expect  and  want  this  letter.  After  what 
you  have  said  I  cannot  doubt  that  it  will  be 
welcome,  for  I  believe  you  mean  what  you  say. 
Although  my  worst  fears  were  true,  I  should 
trust  and  believe  in  you  still.  Nothing  but 
your  own  word  can  have  any  influence.  Truth 
itself  is  no  truer  than  my  friend,  my  ideal.  It 
has  been  a  beautiful,  a  precious  experience  for 
me  to  have  found  my  ideal  in  you.  We  all  have 
ideals,  but  they  are  rarely  realized,  so  I  have 
considered  myself  most  fortunate  just  to  have 
seen  you.  If  fate  is  so  cruel  as  to  take  away 
from  me  the  pleasure  of  your  letters,  with  the 
pleasant  messages  that  they  bring,  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  thank  God  for  having  permitted  me 
to  know  you.  I  feel  that  I  could  almost  say 
with  the  prophet  of  old,  "Lord,  now  lettest  thou 
thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen." 

Speaking  of  fate  leads  me  to  say  that  I  have 
not  been  accustomed  to  believe  in  fate  and 
chance  and  luck,  but  have  believed  more  in  the 
power  of  choice,  perseverance  and  pluck.  Up 


164  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

to  date  fate  has  not  been  kind  to  me.  My  path 
has  seldom,  if  ever  been  strewn  with  roses.  I 
did  so  hope  and  pray  that  our  friendship  might 
be  an  exception,  but  seemingly  my  hope  was 
vain  and  my  prayer  unheard,  for  suddenly  I 
find  myself  up  against  a  great  wall,  with  no 
means  to  scale  or  go  around  it.  No  matter 
what  the  end  may  be  you  may  be  sure  that  I 
shall  expect  you  to  go  onward  and  upward, 
making  the  most  of  yourself.  In  a  great  mea- 
sure we  are  what  we  make  ourselves.  None  has 
the  right  to  let  a  few  little  obstacles  hinder  and 
discourage  him.  Life  is  a  battle  in  which  we 
all  suffer  wounds.  It  is  true  the  wounds  are 
often  out  of  sight,  but  they  are  none  the  less 
real  and  painful  because  of  that.  Broken  hearts 
are  worse  than  broken  heads,  for  with  the  former 
we  often  live  on  and  suffer,  while  with  the  latter, 
life  goes  out  and  suffering  ends.  As  I  go  about 
the  streets  and  in  the  train  I  look  into  faces 
that  are  most  pitiful,  and  I  am  sure  if  we  could 
hear  we  should  find  many,  many  hearts  bleeding 
from  cruel  wounds.  I  am  ashamed  of  my  com- 
plaining when  I  think  of  them. 

Last  night  I  saw  a  case  that  made  me  very 
sad.  I  was  walking  home,  and  on  my  way  I 
passed  through  a  small  park  where  I  noticed 
the  form  of  a  woman  sitting  upon  some  leaves. 
I  was  passing  on  but  heard  a  sob,  which  made 
me  turn  back  and  speak  to  her.  In  short,  she 
was  ill,  hungry,  and  had  no  place  to  go  for 
shelter. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  165 

"Oh  sir,"  she  said,  "I  could  get  along  here  if 
I  had  a  little  bite  to  eat.  I  have  not  had  much 
of  anything  to-day  and  feel  rather  faint." 

I  could  not  leave  her  there,  neither  could  I 
bring  her  home,  so  I  took  her  to  the  hospital 
and  had  her  comfortably  put  to  bed  and  served 
with  a  warm  supper  before  I  left  her.  I  know 
not  who  she  is,  or  if  she  is  good.  God  knows 
that.  She  is  someone's  child,  someone's  loved 
one  and  a  fellow  mortal  struggling  and  drifting 
toward  the  other  world,  so  I  shall  have  her 
cared  for  until  she  is  better. 

It  is  only  when  such  cases,  which  have  so 
little  and  need  so  much  come  to  me  for  help, 
that  I  wish  I  had  plenty  of  means.  I  have 
gone  hungry  myself,  and  I  know  how  it  feels  to 
be  far  from  friends,  without  food  or  shelter,  and 
I  hope  never  to  forget.  And  when  I  see  others  in 
need,  it  will  serve  as  a  reminder  of  those  days 
when  I  learned  how  cold  the  world  is.  There  is, 
however,  a  hunger  keener  than  the  want  of  food. 
It  is  the  want  of  sympathy.  There  is  a  longing 
keener  than  the  longing  for  a  home  or  shelter; 
it  is  the  longing  for  someone  who  cares — a 
friend.  I  doubt  if  you  can  understand  the  lone- 
liness that  comes  to  one  in  a  strange  crowded 
city.  One  is  nowhere  so  much  alone.  Thou- 
sands of  faces,  but  not  one  with  a  smile  for  you. 
That  is  the  pang  of  pain  in  the  saying,  "No 
man  careth  for  my  soul."  I  can  sympathize 
with  those  who  commit  suicide,  for  I  have  felt 
touches  of  the  horrible  despair  that  settles  over 


l66  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

one,  like  the  black  mantle  of  the  night.  I  feel 
too  gloomy  to  write.  My  letters  always  take 
on  the  colour  of  my  feelings,  and  I  must  not 
write  somber  letters  to  you. 

You  have  been  thinking  of  me  to-day.  I  have 
felt  it;  and  your  face  has  looked  at  me  when 
I  closed  my  physical  eyes  and  opened  the  eyes 
of  my  mind.  It  seemed  to  look  pale,  but  per- 
chance I  may  have  imagined  that.  I  have 
hoped  that  you  were  writing  as  well  as  thinking. 
I  got  out  my  little  pile  of  letters,  twelve  in  all, 
from  you  and  read  them  over,  one  by  one,  be- 
ginning with  the  first  and  after  I  had  finished 
I  said  "Every  Night/'  and  went  to  bed. 

I  say  that  again  now,  and  add  a  tiny  petition 
for  a  speedy  ending  of  my  anxiety  about  you, 
and  that  I  shall  get  your  letter  to-morrow 
morning. 

Faithfully  yours, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 

U. 

CHICAGO,  Nov.  i,  1898. 
Dear  Gracie: — 

Words  cannot  express  the  sense  of  loss  I  feel, 
but  you  have  spoken  and  nothing  remains  for 
me  except  to  obey.  I  quite  agree  with  you  and 
would  neither  ask  nor  expect  letters  at  such 
a  cost.  Always  follow  the  dictates  of  your  con- 
science. It  is  God's  voice  within  you,  unless 
the  conscience  has  been  perverted  by  neglect 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  167 

or  education.     It  never  occurred  to  me  that  you 
felt  as  you  do,  or  I  should  have  requested  the 
discontinuance  of  the  letters  long  ago.     To  me, 
you  were  only  breaking  a  promise  which  you 
had  made  against  your  will.     Such  promises  are 
of  no  ethical  value  in  my  judgment;  indeed, 
they  are  better  broken  than  kept,  for  they  are 
generally  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  conscience. 
However,  without  a  discussion  of  the  philos- 
ophy of  the  case,  this  is  what  I  want  to  have 
you  feel,  namely,  that  my  ideal  woman  is  a  true 
and  noble  character,  capable  of  nothing  ignoble, 
but  of  everything  pure  and  good  and  true;  and 
certainly  I  would  be  the  last  person  to  sanction 
the  least  departure  from  her  frank  upright  and 
downright  character. 

And  yet,  you  do  me  an  injustice  in  thinking 
that  I  have  said  a  "great  deal  more  than  I  have 
really  meant."  The  truth  is  that  I  have  said 
much  less  than  I  have  felt  and  when  now,  I  am 
tempted  to  open  the  flood  gates  of  my  heart, 
I  feel  that  words  would  fail  me  and  so  I  shall 
resist  the  temptation  for  I  have  already  said  too 
much.  If  you  could  know  what  I  have  felt,  and 
now  feel,  and  shall  go  on  feeling,  you  might  under- 
stand. Recall  all  I  have  said  to  you  and  mul- 
tiply it  many  fold  and  you  will  have  only  a 
suggestion  of  the  truth. 

Yes,  it  was  written  to  my  ideal,  thank  God 
for  her,  for  I  have  seen  that  she  is  a  possibility, 
a  reality.  To  my  ideal,  to  you,  is  due  the  credit 
of  starting  a  new  vibration  of  feeling  in  me  that 


l68  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

may  go  on  and  result  in  something  worthy.  If 
I  ever  succeed  in  anything  it  will  be  due  largely 
to  this  new  impulse,  your  influence,  for  I  had 
settled  down  into  a  mediocre  existence  that 
would  have  continued  to  the  end.  I  am  fired 
with  a  new  ambition  now.  I  want  to  be  and 
do  something.  It  is  similar  to  the  ambition  I 
have  tried  to  inspire  in  you.  If  I  have  been  a 
small  fraction  of  the  help  to  you  that  you  have 
been  to  me,  then  our  meeting  has  not  been  in 
vain. 

Yes,  "Ships  that  pass  in  the  night"  is  a  good 
illustration  of  my  case,  for  it  was  a  starless  night 
when  you  passed.  I  had  lost  my  bearings  and 
was  drifting  with  little  care  whither,  but  you 
set  me  right  and  gave  me  a  new  purpose  in 
life.  If,  in  return,  I  have  given  you  anything 
that  will  benefit  you  I  am  very  glad  indeed. 

My  letters  you  may  do  what  you  like  with. 
If  they  have  an  atmosphere  about  them  that 
suggests  anything  unpleasant,  you  may  send 
them  back  to  me  by  express;  but  if  they  will 
serve  to  interest  you  during  a  leisure  half  hour 
sometimes,  then  keep  them.  I  should  like  to 
have  kept  your  dear  letters,  they  have  meant 
so  much  to  me,  but  you  shall  have  them  all, 
after  a  few  days. 

The  other  request  I  shall  also  grant  if  you  still 
wish  it  after  you  know  that  the  story  is  a  synop- 
sis of  my  own  life.  As  my  friend,  I  felt  that  it 
was  your  right  to  know,  and  I  chose  that  manner 
of  telling  you.  I  have  Part  III.  here  in  my 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  169 

desk,  which  I  wrote  out  before  I  sent  Part  II. 
If  you  want  it  let  me  know,  when  you  send  the 
typewritten  matter.  After  reading  the  story 
tell  Freckles  what  you  think  of  his  former 
master,  and  in  his  presence  burn  it.  Your 
frankness  to  me  compelled  my  confession,  and 
it  shall  be  sent  without  the  change  of  a  word. 

My  dealings  with  you  have  been  wholly  spon- 
taneous and  unconstrained.  I  have  tried  to 
carry  out  the  suggestion,  if  you  want  to  have 
a  friend,  be  one,  which  is  simply  another  state- 
ment of  the  Golden  Rule,  and  while  I  regret 
greatly  the  discontinuance  of  our,  to  me  most 
delightful  correspondence,  I  hope  our  friend- 
ship may  continue;  to  what  end,  God  only 
knows,  for  I  feel  that  it  came  from  Him.  I  am 
your  friend  and  shall  often,  very  often,  wonder 
where  and  how  you  are,  and  long  for  the  letters 
that  may  never  come.  Every  morning  as  I 
look  over  my  mail,  I  shall  be  disappointed  at 
not  finding  a  letter  addressed  in  your  well 
known  hand-writing. 

The  objection  to  your  writing  may  someday 
be  gone;  if  so  will  you  think  of  me  and  write? 
How  foolish  I  am!  I  seek  for  a  hope,  be  it  ever 
so  tiny.  The  thought  that  I  am  losing  my 
friend  forever  is  very  sad.  May  I  now  and  then 
send  you  a  paper,  a  book,  a  souvenir,  utal  cetera? 
Just  to  show  you  that  there  is  someone  here 
who  sometimes  thinks  of  you  and  wants  you 
to  know  that  the  Little  Brown  Mouse  cannot 
fade  away  from  his  memory.  Some  day  you 


1 70 


THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 


may  need  such  a  friend  as  I  would  be,  and  if 
you  knew  that  neither  time  nor  silence  would 
change  me,  you  will  feel  free  to  come  for  advice 
or  help.  If  you  could  realize  how  gladly  I 
would  welcome  any  demand  it  would  be  easier 
for  you  to  ask. 

I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  of  the  illness  of  your 
"boy  friend"  and  can  fully  understand  how 
you  feel,  for  you  told  me  that  he  had  been  like 
a  brother  to  you  for  years.  I  hope  he  is  much 
better  and  that  he  will  soon  be  quite  well  again. 
Excuse  me  for  saying  that  I  wish  he  understood 
you  better,  for  then  he  would  be  able  to  help 
you  more  and  make  you  happier.  It  is  a  little 
surprising  that  you  could  see  the  hand  of  God 
in  his  illness,  punishing  your  disloyalty  to  him 
and  threatening  to  take  him  away  from  you. 

Please  give  my  compliments  to  your  mother 
and  tell  her  for  me  that  I  greatly  admire  her  as 
a  mother,  and  congratulate  her  upon  the 
beautiful  harmony  of  feeling  that  exists  between 
her  and  you.  And  I  thank  her  for  the  wise 
counsel  that  she  has  given  you  about  our  friend- 
ship. There  is  but  one  mother  whom  I  more 
highly  respect,  and  she  is  my  own  sweet  mother. 

I  have  a  last  request  to  make,  and  wish  that 
I  might  feel  sure  that  you  would  grant  it.  It  is 
this:  Will  you  send  the  photo  of  yourself  that 
you  promised?  When  I  have  sent  back  the 
letters  what  shall  I  have  left  save  the  memory? 
You  won't  deny  me  this,  will  you?  It  will  be 
a  great  boon!  After  all,  it  seems  a  dream.  I 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  171 

awakened  when  your  letter  came,  on  Friday  last. 
June  2 yth  to  October  2;th!  Four  months!  Oh, 
it  was  a  beautiful  dream!  It  was  so  real,  very 
like  creeping  up  to  the  gates  of  glory  and  getting 
a  peep  into  Heaven.  How  dark  everything  looks 
after  gazing  at  a  bright  light  for  a  little  while ! 
Good-bye  and  God  bless  you, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

V. 

CHICAGO,  Nov.  19,  1898. 
Dear  Gracie: — 

It  seems  very  good  to  receive  another  letter 
from  you  and  I  thank  you  for  the  pleasant 
things  that  you  say  to  me  in  it.  I  know  you  are 
trying  to  inflict  as  little  pain  as  possible  in  doing 
what  you  think  is  right,  and  I  appreciate  your 
gentleness.  I  have  never  seen  any  other  person 
like  you  and  I  fear  I  never  shall.  The  other 
day  I  thought  of  a  little  act  I  saw  you  perform, 
and  I  amused  myself  by  seeing  how  long  I 
should  have  to  wait  until  someone  in  the  passing 
crowd  would  do  likewise.  It  was  a  little  thing, 
but  little  things  mean  so  much  at  times.  I  saw 
you  go  out  of  your  way  to  remove  a  banana 
peel  from  the  sidewalk  to  the  gutter.  I  waited 
and  watched  the  people  pass  the  peel  that  lay, 
all  undisturbed  so  long  that  I  grew  weary,  but 
none  removed  it;  and  as  I  removed  it  I  said 
to  myself,  "There  is  none  like  her"  and  my  loss 
seemed  very  great  and  exceedingly  hard  to  bear. 


172  THE    FULFILLING    OF    TNE    LAW. 

And  yet,  you  ask  me  to  forget  and  think  I 
shall  do  so  if  you  do  not  send  the  photo  I  asked 
for,  and  was  really  hoping  you  would  send. 
There  are  some  things  that  one  cannot  forget. 
I  would  obey  you  if  I  could  just  to  please  you; 
but  I  am  sure  that  deep  down  in  your  heart  you 
know  that  I  can  never  forget.  My  last  request 
was  not  a  very  large  one,  but  it  meant  much  to 
me,  and  your  refusal  is  hard  to  bear.  Well,  I 
shall  not  complain.  I  have  the  penny  you  sent 
for  luck.  I  have  carried  it  every  day  since  it 
came.  One  day  I  thought  I  had  lost  it,  but 
happily  I  found  it,  and  have  taken  precautions 
to  prevent  any  danger  of  that  sort  hereafter.  It 
is  my  charm. 

I  am  glad  you  did  your  first  job  for  me.  It  is 
done  quite  satisfactorily  and  I  am  very  grateful 
to  you  for  doing  it.  In  the  after  years,  it  may 
be  pleasant  to  recall  the  first  money  earning  you 
did,  so  I  am  going  to  pay  you  for  your  work,  a 
nominal  fee  only,  and  send  herewith  a  Columbian 
half-dollar  which  I  have  carried  as  a  pocket 
piece  since  the  World's  Fair.  It  will  also  be  an 
addition  to  your  collection  of  coins. 

No,  I  do  not  want  the  copy  of  the  paper,  you 
may  keep  or  destroy  it,  as  you  choose.  I  have 
been  requested  to  rewrite  it  for  publication  and 
probably  shall  do  so  shortly. 

I  am  studying  German  and  French,  as  I  may 
go  to  Europe  in  1900  to  study,  and  to  attend 
the  Paris  Exposition.  I  have  not  set  my  heart 
upon  it,  but  am  working  with  that  end  in  view. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  173 

However,  I  need  the  German  and  French  in  my 
scientific  research.  German  I  read,  but  speak 
poorly.  Of  French,  I  know  but  little.  How- 
ever, it  is  so  much  like  Latin  that  I  shall  soon 
master  it. 

A  word  now  about  my  letters.  If  at  any 
time,  for  any  reason,  you  wish  to  part  with  them 
do  not  burn  them,  but  kindly  send  them  back 
to  the  writer,  as  they  will  serve  to  remind  him 
of  the  contents  of  the  letters  to  which  they  were 
the  answers. 

You  shall  have  the  rest  of  the  story  just  as 
I  wrote  it  more  than  a  month  ago.  I  have  read 
it  and  was  tempted  to  destroy  it  and  rewrite 
it,  but  you  have  asked  for  it  as  it  is ;  what  differ- 
ence does  it  make  now?  So,  here  it  is.  I  am 
glad  to  have  you  for  my  judge,  for  you  will  be 
merciful.  Would  that  I  might  watch  your  dear 
face  as  you  read  the  story.  It  would  tell  me 
some  things  that  I  should  like  to  know. 

Thank  you  for  saying  that  you  will  feel  free 
to  come  to  me  if  I  can  ever  serve  you,  and  that 
my  friendship  has  been  helpful,  that  I  am  still 
your  friend,  and  that  you  know  that  I  will  think 
kindly  of  you,  if  I  think  of  you  at  all. 

I  hope  you  are  making  satisfactory  progress 
with  your  stenography,  and  that  you  will  com- 
plete your  course  in  due  time  and  also  succeed 
in  reaching  the  high  mark  of  the  goal  you  have 
set  before  you.  I  am  sure  that  you  will  succeed 
and  when  you  are  victorious  I  hope  I  may  know, 
so  that  I  may  rejoice  with  you.  Do  not  be  sat- 


174  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

isfied  with  a  mediocre  place  in  life.  You  have 
been  largely  endowed  with  the  things  that  make 
for  greatness;  do  not  fail  to  make  the  most  of 
your  talents.  I  had  hoped  to  lend  a  hand  in  the 
struggle,  but  since  that  may  not  be,  I  shall  none 
the  less  expect  much  of  you.  Do  not  disap- 
point your  friends! 

I  did  not  mean  to  write  so  much,  but  just  say 
those  things  which  were  necessary  for  I  do  not 
wish  to  appear  as  forcing  myself  upon  you. 
Forgive  me.  You  know  my  failings.  There 
are  so  many  last  things  to  say  before  we  can 
say  our  farewells,  and  at  last,  words  fail  and  it 
all  ends  in  a  sob.  If  I  wrote  ever  so  much  I 
could  not  say  all  I  have  in  my  heart  to  say  to 
you,  so  I  shall  leave  the  rest  unsaid  and  trust 
that  you  will  put  yourself  in  my  place  and 
supply  it. 

You  have  been  my  inspiration  and  your  mem- 
ory shall  continue  to  be  so  till  the  short  journey 
of  life  is  run,  and  I  hope  that  I  shall  meet  you 
again  in  another  life,  if  not  in  this. 

I  hope  Freckles  continues  to  keep  his  good 
character.  .Tell  him  to  take  good  care  of  the 
Little  Brown  Mouse  and  that  he  may  take  my 
place  now  and  I  shall  not  be  jealous  or  say 
unkind  things  of  him. 

You  do  not  send  your  poem  or  tell  me  what 
you  "see  in  the  distance."  I  hope  it  is  not  so 
dark  to  you  as  it  appears  to  me. 

Give  my  love  to  the  Little  Brown  Mouse. 

Now,  awaiting  your  commands,  I  am  always, 
Your  friend,  VAL. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  175 

TO  MY  VALENTINE. 

Dear  Valentine, 

For  thee  I  pine 
And  long  for  news  from  thee ; 

My  lonely  heart, 

From  thee  apart 
Can  never  happy  be. 

Try  to  obey, 

Hard  as  I  may, 
I  can't  forget  thy  face ; 

It  grows  clearer, 

Ever  dearer, 
And  none  can  take  its  place. 

Accept  my  love, 

Born  from  Above, 
And  true  whate'er  befall ; 

Let  me  crown  thee, 

Most  lovingly, 
My  queen,  my  love,  my  all. 

W. 

CHICAGO,  MARCH  14,  1899. 
Dear  Friend : — 

The  temptation  to  write  to  you  is  too  great 
to  resist.  I  have  before  me  an  envelope  ad- 
dressed and  stamped,  containing  some  unim- 
portant announcements  for  you,  such  as  I  am 
sending  to  a  number  of  my  acquaintances  and 
clients.  The  tempter,  this  tempter,  seems  to 
be  within  me,  whispering  thoughts  like  these: 
"You  might  as  well  enclose  a  few  kindly  words, 
perhaps  she  would  be  pleased  to  hear  from  you. 


176  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

You  know  what  a  letter  from  her  means  to  you. 
It  is  such  a  long  time  now  since  you  last  wrote. 
She  will  forget  you  if  you  do  not  send  her  a 
line  now  and  then."  And  much  more  to  the 
same  effect.  What  could  I  do?  Well,  the  fact 
that  I  am  writing  shows  plainly  what  I  could 
not  do,  namely,  resist  the  tempter.  I  know  the 
old  saying,  "Resist  the  tempter  and  he'll  fly 
from  you,"  but  this  particular  tempter  would 
be  most  likely  to  fly  with  me,  as  he  is  inside.  So 
that  is  why  I  am  writing,  because  I  am  weak. 
A  short  year  ago  I  thought  I  was  strong.  How- 
ever, I  am  not  sorry  that  I  have  learned  the 
truth.  Perhaps  in  the  end  I  shall  be  better  for  it. 

The  end  of  the  school  year  is  at  hand  and  I 
send  you  an  announcement  of  the  closing  exer- 
cises and  regret  that  it  will  be  impossible  for 
you  to  attend.  I  should  be  so  happy  to  have 
your  company  at  the  banquet  of  the  same  day, 
at  the  Auditorium.  I  shall  think  of  you  that 
night  and  wonder  how  you  would  like  it  all. 

You  will  notice  by  the  other  programme  that 
another  honor  has  been  shown  me  in  the  election 
to  the  highest  office  in  the  Society  of  Psychology. 
I  wish  too  that  you  might  join  us  in  our  studies 
in  that  Society.  The  scope  of  the  lectures  is  well 
shown  by  this  programme  for  March  and  April. 

I  have  intended  to  write  you  a  little  birthday 
letter  and  have  often  thought  over  what  I  am 
to  say.  I  had  hoped  to  have  a  little  surprise 
for  you  by  that  time.  Perhaps  I  shall,  for  I 
have  several  weeks  yet.  There  are  so  many 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  177 

things  that  I  have  wanted  to  talk  over  with 
you.  None  seems  to  understand  my  thoughts 
as  you  did  and  I  became  so  used  to  going  to 
you  with  everything  that  it  is  no  wonder  that 
I  worried  you. 

You  are  now,  doubtless,  a  professional  steno- 
grapher and  I  am  sure  you  will  succeed.  The 
other  day  I  needed  one  of  your  profession  and 
could  not  help  thinking  of  the  pleasure  it  would 
be  to  have  you  near  enough  to  serve  me.  I 
have  been  greatly  annoyed  by  the  stenographers 
I  have  had.  They  are  so  unreliable  in  keeping 
promises.  It  is  over  a  week  since  I  last  saw 
my  present  help,  and  she  was  to  be  on  hand 
the  next  day.  I  am  not  hard  to  please.  Will 
you  be  my  secretary?  I  will  pay  you  anything 
you  ask,  even  to  the  half  of  my  income.  There, 
I  tried  to  write  that  just  as  though  I  believed 
you  might  come.  I  wonder  if  you  are  working 
for  anyone.  If  you  are,  I  hope  that  he  appre- 
ciates you.  I  have  often  wondered  how  you 
would  find  real  work,  for  I  remember  the  day 
when  I  saw  a  little  brown  eyed  girl  who  was 
feeling  very  badly,  because  someone  had  spoken 
unkindly  to  her,  as  employers  often  do.  That 
was  such  a  bright,  beautiful  day.  I  went  over 
to  Fairmount  Park  that  day  and  climbed  upon 
one  of  the  bluffs  and  sat  and  looked  far  away 
toward  the  distant  horizon.  It  seems  like  a 
beautiful  midsummer  day's  dream  now  as  I  sit 
and  think  of  the  past.  The  poet  Whittier  has 
comfortingly  sung: 


178  THE    FINDING    OF    A    FRIEND. 

''Ah  well,  for  us  all  some  sweet  hope  lies 
"Deeply  buried  from  human  eyes, 
"And  in  the  hereafter  angels  may  roll  the  stone 
"From  the  grave  away." 

Perhaps  you  have  the  acrostic,  for  I  enclosed 
it  in  a  little  volume  of  poems  I  sent ;  but  I  have 
learned  that  a  package  which  I  placed  upon  the 
mail  box  at  the  same  time  was  lost,  so  I  send 
this  second  copy  of  the  lines  which  grew  in  my 
mind  and  clamored  for  expression.  The 
thoughts  that  the  ideal  inspired  were  far  more 
beautiful  than  these  words  that  I  have  written 
down.  You  will  understand  this,  for  you  once 
told  me  how  hard  you  found  it  to  write  out  the 
beautiful  things  that  came  into  your  mind.  At 
any  rate,  such  as  it  is,  it  is  all  yours,  for  although 
you  and  I  have  somewhat  different  ideas,  as  to 
what,  or  rather  who  "My  Ideal"  is,  you,  at 
least,  know  what  she  is  to  me. 

I  must  stop  this  rush  of  words,  for  there  is  no 
hope  of  ever  reaching  the  end,  but  before  I  stop 
I  must  say  a  word  about  Freckles,  the  lucky 
fellow.  His  afore-time  mistress  asked  me  about 
him  a  few  weeks  ago.  I  assured  her  he  was  in 
safe  hands,  and  was,  of  all  dogs,  most  fortunate. 
I  hope  he  has  kept  up  his  record  for  goodness 
and  has  proven  a  source  of  pleasure  to  his  little 
mistress. 

And  the  Little  Brown  Mouse,  (God  bless  her), 
tell  her  that  I  shall  never  forget  her;  her  in- 
fluence in  my  life  will  continue  to  the  end;  she 
has  made  me  a  better  and  braver  man ;  she  has 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  179 

inspired  new  hope  and  renewed  ambition;  she 
has  made  me  want  to  be  more  useful  in  the 
world;  she  has  taught  me  what  a  noble,  pure- 
minded  woman  is;  she  has  done  all  of  these 
things  and  much  more  which  I  may  not  write, 
but  which  I  appreciate  and  for  which  I  thank 
her  upon  my  bended  knees.  As  ever, 

V.  DE  W. 

TO  MY  IDEAL. 
(An  Acrostic.) 

Elegance  encircles  thee  like  a  dress 

Lending  an  airy  motion  to  thy  form 
Giving  a  beauty  rare,  and  loveliness, 

As  a  rich  tint  that  makes  a  picture  warm, 
Glistens  in  the  luster  of  thy  dark  tress 

Rendering  it,  as  moonlight  after  storm, 
Alters  dark  shadows  into  gentleness, 

Comliness  that  bewilders  like  a  spell, 
Exists  in  thy  bright  brown  eyes  and  thy  brow 

Truly  noble  in  character,  doth  tell, 
Unasked,  that  a  beautiful  soul  art  thou, 

The  temple  where  angelic  love  might  dwell. 
E'en  such  is  she  of  whom  I  dream  at  night, 

Lovely  as  a  memory  though  lost  to  sight. 

Arranged. 

X. 

CHICAGO,  APRIL  24,  1899. 
My  Dear  Friend: — 

Many  happy  returns  of  the  day !  I  am  going 
to  try  to  write  you  a  birthday  letter.  I  never 
wrote  one  before,  but  it  offers  an  opportunity 


l8o  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

justify   my   writing  to  you.     I   write   with   a 

strange  conflict  of  emotions  going  on  in  my 

heart. 

that  I  have  made  myself  believe  is  sufficient  to 

I  have  looked  forward  to  this  day  when  I  had 
planned  to  write,  with  pleasure  and  a  feeling 
akin  to  hunger.  Did  you  ever  feel  hungry  to 
see  or  hear  from  anybody?  Then  you  know 
how  I  feel  to-day.  I  am  sure  I  cannot  write  a 
birthday  letter  worthy  of  the  name,  but  I  am 
never  at  a  loss  for  thoughts  when  I  begin  to 
write  to  you.  When  I  wrote  some  letters  to 
you  I  feared  lest  they  might  be  too  long  and 
weary  you,  but  now  I  wish  I  had  let  my  heart 
speak  out  all  of  its  messages  when  you  read 
them  gladly,  for  perchance  it  might  have  said 
something  that  would  have  lodged  and  lived 
in  your  memory. 

A  birthday  letter,  a  letter  to  you!  What 
shall  I  say?  I  have  thought  as  the  days  have 
grown  into  weeks  and  the  weeks  have  become 
months  of  the  many  things  I  would  write  to-day, 
but  now  that  I  am  ready  to  write  I  am  dumb. 
The  pressure  has  become  so  great  that  it  all 
ends  in  an  aching  heart  and  a  prayer  that  God 
will  keep  my  little  friend  and  give  her  every 
blessing  and  many  years"  in  which  to  enjoy  them. 
If  I  only  knew  that  this  letter  would  have  the 
same  welcome  that  some  of  my  other  letters 
had,  I  should  not  feel  this  almost  overpowering 
oppression.  If  I  knew  that  you  would  look  at 
the  bottom  of  the  page  to  see  if  the  signature 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  l8l 

was  there,  and  if  it  was  not,  be  glad,  because 
you  knew  there  were  more  pages  to  follow,and 
if  it  was  there,  read  very  slowly  so  as  to  make 
it  last  as  long  as  possible,  then  I  could  write 
freely  and  possibly  write,  what  you  honored  me 
by  calling,  a  "beautiful  letter."  How  the  words 
of  those  dear  messages  still  cling  to  my  memory ! 
They  repeat  themselves  over  and  over  again 
in  my  mind,  in  the  quiet  watches  of  the  night, 
when  I  lie  awake  to  think,  and  think,  and 
think  of  the  dear,  dear  days  of  "One  Summer." 
I  know  most  of  the  words  you  said  and  wrote 
to  me  by  heart.  They  brought  to  me  the  only 
real  happiness  that  I  had  known  for  many 
weary  years.  I  did  not  deserve  the  happiness, 
so  it  was  taken  away  from  me  and  the  sun  of 
hope  set;  but  "the  memories  that  gather  around 
them  to  me  are  ever  blessed." 

I  have  missed  the  opportunity  of  pouring  my 
thoughts  into  willing  ears,  but  the  thoughts 
have  kept  coming,  and  like  the  tiny  brook 
which,  when  dammed  up,  becomes  a  great  lake, 
so  the  thoughts  have  accumulated  until  they 
have  become  an  almost  irresistible  flood,  likely 
to  break  forth,  and  with  violence  sweep  all 
before  them.  I  have  tried  to  use  their  increas- 
ing energy  by  directing  it  into  other  channels, 
but  have  only  partly  succeeded.  I  have  worked 
hard  in  the  college,  written  for  some  periodicals, 
and  have  written  a  little  book.  I  have  suc- 
ceeded in  working  off  considerable  flesh,  but  I 
have  failed  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  inner 


182  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

man — my  soul  still  hungers.  I  have  even  dab- 
bled a  little  in  politics  without  finding  any  satis- 
faction. There  are  some  instances  where  sub- 
stitution will  not  work  and  this  is  one  of  them. 

I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  dedicating  my 
maiden  effort  in  authorship  to  E.  G.  T.  None 
but  you  and  I  need  ever  know  who  that  means. 
I  wanted  to  give  the  credit  where  it  was  due.  I 
had  hoped  to  have  the  little  book  ready  to  send 
to  you  for  a  birthday  token,  but  the  printers 
have  failed  me.  However,  it  will  soon  be  ready 
and  you  shall  have  the  first  copy  finished.  It 
:s  yours.  I  wrote  it  for  you. 

Doubtless,  your  keen  perception  will  discover 
between  the  lines  some  indications  of  the 
thoughts  that  were  in  my  mind  as  I  wrote.  I 
have  put  it  into  a  brown  dress  to  remind  you 
that  I  still  remember  the  Little  Brown  Mouse 
who  found  her  way  into  my  heart,  where  she 
still  abides.  Moreover,  when  she  entered  she 
opened  the  door  and  let  in  faith,  hope  and  love. 
Faith  in  humanity,  hope  in  a  future  happiness, 
and  love  of  herself.  "God  bless  her!"  I  say 
many  times  each  day  and  you  know  what  I  say 
every  night.  No  matter  how  late  duty  keeps 
me  up,  as  soon  as  my  head  touches  the  pillow  I 
see  a  vision,  my  guardian  angel,  and  softly 
breathe  the  prayer.  The  dear  Little  Brown 
Mouse!  I  do  not  complain,  but  at  times  it 
seems  almost  cruel  for  you,  who  protects  the 
unknown  stranger  by  removing  a  dangerous 
banana  peel  from  the  walk,  to  deny,  to  your 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  183 

friend,  a  joy  that  you  taught  him  to  expect  by 
your  manner  and  promise — the  joy  of  having 
your  picture  to  look  upon.  It  will  not  cause  me 
to  forget  a  single  smallest  lineament  of  your 
sweet  face  not  to  have  it,  I  have  but  to  close 
my  eyes  and  look  within  my  soul  to  see  a  likeness 
such  as  no  mortal  man  could  make  or  draw  for 
perfection.  God  has  been  good  to  me.  He  has 
fixed  indelibly  upon  the  walls  of  my  memory 
a  form,  a  face,  yes,  the  likeness  of  a  soul,  so 
beautiful  to  me  that  many  times  during  the  day 
I  close  my  eyes  as  I  walk  the  streets  or  ride 
about,  to  look  upon  it.  I  have  tried  to  describe 
her,  but  have  found  it  impossible.  I  sent  you 
an  attempt,  but  that  fell  far  short  of  the  real, 
my  ideal:  I  had  almost  said  my  idol.  I  cannot 
go  astray  while  I  carry  her  with  me.  I  could 
not  take  her  into  any  environment  that  would 
be  out  of  harmony  with  her  nobility  of  char- 
acter and  purity  of  life. 

I  am  wandering  from  my  text ;  this  is  a  birth- 
day letter  and  I  want  to  say  a  few  things  about 
birthdays,  especially  yours.  Your  birthdays 
should  be  days  of  retrospection,  introspection, 
and  prospection.  What  has  been  done?  What 
ought  to  be  done?  These  are  questions  which 
will  ever  recur  to  your  soul  and  answer  must 
be  made.  Conscience  is  the  judge  and  will  pass 
the  sentence  of  well  done  or  the  reverse,  and 
faith  and  hope  will  point  out  the  direction  of 
the  next  stage,  and  love  will  be  present  to  aid 
and  smooth  the  way.  How  many  times  I  have 


184  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

thought  of  those  few  talks  we  had  last  summer 
and  I  have  been  glad  to  know  that  I  have  been 
a  factor,  if  a  small  one,  in  waking  the  sleeping 
genius  in  your  soul,  and  now  I  would  fan  the 
flame  into  a  white  heat  if  I  could,  so  that  no- 
thing can  hold  you  back  from  the  accomplish- 
ment of  some  of  the  glorious  possibilities  that 
lie  within  the  range  of  your  splendid  talents. 

If  you  must  be  self  supporting  that  need  not 
hinder  higher  aims.  A  little  time  each  day  will 
suffice  to  win  success  and  that  may  be  found, 
no  matter  what  one's  occupation.  It  is  spirit- 
ual suicide  to  smother  and  quench  the  spark  of 
genius  that  God,  or  nature,  or  what  you  will,  has 
placed  within  your  soul.  I  know  you  long  for 
a  chance  to  throw  off  every  restraint  and  let 
your  ambitious  soul  speak  out.  Do  it.  The 
opportunity  will  never  come  to  you  unless  you 
prepare  the  way.  You  can  do  that ;  indeed  you 
must  do  it.  Do  not  believe  in  fate ;  that  means 
to  give  up  the  battle,  to  become  a  pessimist.  We 
may  overcome  circumstances  and  defy  fate. 
Listen  to  the  words  of  a  hopeful  woman  and  let 
her  help  you.  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox  has  truth- 
fully said: 

"One  ship  goes  east  another  goes  west 
"By  the  self  same  winds  that  blow; 
"  It  is  the  set  of  the  sales  and  not  the  gales, 
"That  determines  the  ways  they  go. 

"Like  the  winds  of  the  sea,  are  the  ways  of  fate, 
"As  we  voyage  along  through  life; 

"  It  is  the  set  of  the  soul  that  determines  the  goal, 
"And  not  the  calm  or  the  strife." 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  18$ 

If  I  could  write  burning  words,  words  as 
strong  as  faith  in  you,  I  am  sure  I  could  inspire 
you  with  determination  to  do  and  to  dare  what 
your  gifts  make  possible  for  you.  Let  no  false 
sense  of  duty  to  others  overshadow  the  first  and 
greatest  duty  that  life  has  laid  upon  you,  name- 
ly, your  duty  to  yourself. 

I  was  glad  when  you  took  up  stenography 
but  that  can  never  be  more  than  a  means  to 
an  end.  It  cannot  satisfy  the  longings  of  a  hun- 
gry soul.  Nothing  can  satisfy  that,  except 
that  for  which  it  longs.  The  longing  for  the 
good  and  beautiful  is  the  Divine  in  us  calling 
for  Him  who  placed  it  there.  I  have  likened  it 
to  hunger,  but  physical  hunger  cannot  correctly 
be  compared  with  it.  I  know  for  I  have  been 
hungry  for  bread  when  there  was  none  to  be 
had,  and  I  have  felt  the  gnawings  of  the  hunger- 
ing after  soul  food.  Happy  is  he  who  dies  of 
physical  hunger,  if  it  saves  him  from  eating  out 
his  soul  in  lonliness,  with  none  to  understand 
and  minister  to  his  hungry  soul. 

Dear  friend,  heed  my  words  while  you  are 
still  young  and  strong  and  seek  some  higher 
calling.  To  give  your  life  up  to  stenography 
means  to  give  it  up  to  drudgery,  even  if  you 
attain  to  your  ambition  and  become  a  court 
reporter.  Many  times  this  winter  I  have 
thought  of  you  and  wanted  to  write  to  you,  as 
I  have  watched  a  lady  who  was  one  of  my  stu- 
dents at  the  college.  She  is  a  court  reporter, 
from  the  Supreme  Court,  but  she  is  no  longer  a 


186  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

young  girl  like  yourself  and  finds  it  hard  to 
learn.  Why  do  I  think  of  you  when  I  see  her? 
Simply  because  she  has  all  you  hope  for  in  sten- 
ography and  has  found  it  insufficient.  She  says 
that  it  would  soon  wear  her  out,  though  physi- 
cally strong,  to  follow  that  work  and  she  would 
have  to  give  up  and  live  on  what  little  she  has 
been  able  to  save.  In  other  words,  she  would 
be  a  slave  with  no  hope  of  ultimate  emanci- 
pation. Besides  it  does  not  satisfy  her  higher 
aspirations. 

Do  I  make  myself  plain?  The  real  things 
must  be  something  higher  and  beyond.  Man 
does  not  live  by  bread  alone.  If  this  life  were 
all,  that  might  suffice,  but  we  hope  for  another, 
sweeter,  purer  life  in  a  land  where  sorrow,  part- 
ing, pain  and  time  shall  disappear.  If  I  were 
quite  sure  of  such  a  land  I  would  say  with  the 
apostle  Paul,  "I  long  to  depart  and  be  with  Him 
whom  to  know  aright  is  life  eternal."  Yes,  I 
get  weary  of  it  all,  but  you  must  not  for  you  are 
just  beginning  and  may  avoid  such  experiences 
as  have  marred  and  taken  the  sweetness  out 
of  my  life.  They  have  left  an  ever  present  ache 
that  I  hope  you  may  never  have  occasion  to 
feel. 

You  are  standing  at  the  gate  of  many  possi- 
bilities, will  you  lift  the  latch  and  go  forth  into 
the  promised  land,  or  will  you  leave  it  forever 
down  barring  the  way  to  happiness  and  useful- 
ness? This  is  your  birthday,  let  it  be  the  starting 
point  of  the  nobler  life,  the  day  you  resolve  to 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  187 

set  your  face  toward  the  star  guiding  to  you* 
development,  self  culture,  and  real  life.  I  do 
not  mean  that  you  shall  be  selfish ;  that  would 
be  almost  impossible  with  your  unselfish  nature, 
but  I  do  mean  that  you  shall  cease  to  let  others 
fill  the  whole  circle  of  your  life,  and  crowd  out 
the  only  one  whom  God  holds  you  responsible 
for,  that  is,  yourself.  In  no  way  can  you  do  so 
much  for  others  as  to  develop  to  the  full  all  that 
God  has  made  possible  in  yourself. 

May  you  have  many  more  birthdays,  dear 
friend,  may  they  become  brighter  and  brighter 
as  they  increase  in  number,  until  at  last,  they 
shall  end  like  a  glorious  sunset  in  the  evening 
of  life  and  through  the  twilight  gently  merge 
into  the  stillness  of  a  serenely  beautiful  night 
to  be  followed  by  the  bright  dawning  of  the 
everlasting  day. 

Still  awaiting  your  commands,  I  am  proud  to 
sign  myself  simply, 

Your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

Y. 

CHICAGO,  JUNE  16,  1899. 
My  Dear  Friend: — 

At  last  I  have  the  pleasure  of  sending  to  you 
the  first  finished  copy  of  my  little  work  "Mental 
Medicine  "  in  its  neat  brown  dress.  I  wish  that 
I  might  have  the  privilege  of  placing  it  in  your 
hands  myself.  It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  watch 


l88  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

your  expressive  face  as  you  hastily  glanced 
through  it,  but  that,  like  many  other  privileges 
has  been  denied  me.  Now  that  the  book  is 
finished  and  ready  for  the  market  I  fail  to  ex- 
perience the  satisfaction  anticipated  while  writ- 
ing it.  The  pleasures  of  anticipation  are  always 
greater  than  those  of  realization.  The  little 
book  is  sent  forth  into  the  world  to  meet  its 
fate.  Is  it  a  failure  or  a  success?  Time  will 
tell.  I  had  tried  and  hoped  to  make  it  the 
latter  for  your  sake.  What  do  you  think  of 
it?  I  am  most  anxious  to  know  your  verdict; 
what  others  will  say  or  think  is  less  important. 
Knowing  that  you  expected  no  answer  to 
your  letter  none  was  sent.  However,  it  made 
my  heart  glad  and  my  life  brighter  to  hear  from 
you  once  more. 

I  am  glad  that  you  thought  my  birthday 
letter  "beautiful"  and  the  flowers  "exquisite" 
and  that  you  are  pleased  to  have  my  little  work 
dedicated  to  you.  And  it  was  no  less  pleasant 
to  know  that  the  Little  Brown  Mouse  was 
pleased  by  the  compliment  paid  her  in  selecting 
it's  dress.  Ah!  the  memories  her  magic  name 
recalls.  If  my  words  of  encouragement  have 
been  an  inspiration  I  am  glad  and  hope  the 
words  may  live  in  your  memory  and  continue 
to  help  you.  I  am  sure  that  you  can  attain  the 
many  possibilities  pointed  out.  Your  success 
with  stenography  is  a  present  proof  of  your 
abilities.  What  you  have  done  in  this  direc- 
tion you  may  do  in  others.  Always  aim  high. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  189 

Frankness  demands  that  I  should  admit  that 
I  was  just  a  little  disappointed  when  I  learned 
that  your  father  was  considered  a  wealthy 
man,  for  it  seems  to  force  us  further  apart. 
When  I  thought  you  a  self-supporting  girl  I 
hoped  that  sometime  I  might  be  able  to  aid 
you  in  the  unequal  struggle  and  help  you  to 
attain  the  goal  of  your  ambitions.  That  hope 
has  been  taken  away.  However,  I  am  glad 
that  you  are  removed  from  the  trials  of  a  self 
supporting  life,  for  it  makes  the  possibilities 
of  self  development  and  culture  easier  and  your 
obligations  to  yourself  and  the  world  more  real. 

Your  prospect  of  a  fine  position  should  be 
gratifying  to  you  and  encourage  you  to  re- 
newed effort.  It  may  serve  as  a  stepping  stone 
to  still  greater  things. 

The  thought  of  giving  up  stenography  after 
spending  so  much  time  and  effort  in  acquiring 
it  ought  not  to  be  entertained.  Of  course,  I 
do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  "turning  your 
attention  to  very  different  matters."  But  un- 
less they  are  very  important  and  promising  as 
well  as  different,  I  should  advise  against  the 
turning.  Frequent  changes  in  occupation  are 
generally  bad. 

Freckles!  How  glad  I  am  that  we  selected 
that  name  instead  of  "The  Link,"  for  that 
would  have  been  a  constant  reminder  which 
would  have  grown  odious  to  you.  I  am  glad 
that  he  justified  my  good  opinion  of  him  and 
won  the  place  that  I  could  not  obtain,  so  that 


IQO  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

you're  forced  to  say  "we  could  not  get  along 
without  him."  It  would  be  pleasant  to  have 
him  perform  his  tricks  for  my  entertainment. 
Happy,  fat  and  wooly  dog!  I  wonder  if  he 
appreciates  his  good  fortune,  the  fortunate 
rarely  do,  it  is  only  by  being  deprived  of  them 
that  we  learn  to  appreciate  the  good  things  of 
life.  However,  I  am  able  to  appreciate  the 
gratitude  you  feel  toward  me  for  sending  the 
lucky  dog. 

The  little  gifts  that  I  have  sent  from  time  to 
time  are  expressions  of  the  sentiment  that  was 
born  in  the  days  when  a  little  brown  haired, 
brown  eyed,  brown  dressed  girl  acted  as  the 
guide  to  an  impressionable  man  visiting  her 
city.  The  poems  in  a  feeble  way  voice  the 
same  sentiment.  It  is  hoped  that  both  the 
receiver  and  the  sender  have  been  helped  by 
them. 

You  sign  yourself:  "Not  your  ideal,  but 
your  friend."  It  is  said  that  there  is  no  great 
loss  without  some  small  gain,  so  while  you  are 
not  what  I  have  tried  to  help  you  to  become, 
I  rejoice  that  in  you  I  have  found  a  friend.  I 
had  hoped  for  more,  but  shall  try  to  be  satisfied 
with  this.  Who  is  ever  satisfied? 

Hoping  that  your  proposed  journey  and  va- 
cation will  both  be  full  of  delightful  experiences 
for  you,  and  that  He  who  sits  upon  the  cycle  of 
the  heavens  may  watch  over  and  keep  you 
throughout  all  the  days  of  your  life,  I  subscribe 
myself,  Most  sincerely  your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


LETTERS    WRITTEN    TO    A    FRIEND.  IQI 

Z. 

CHICAGO,  SEPT.  15,  1899. 
Dear  Friend: — 

"No  news  is  good  news"  some  one  has  said, 
but  the  suspense  that  it  entails  is  as  hard  to 
bear  as  bad  news. 

I  wonder  whether  you  have  returned  from 
your  western  trip  and  are  at  home  again.  I 
have  wondered  much  besides,  but  am  not  writ- 
ing to  give  an  account  of  my  wonderment.  My 
only  excuse  for  writing  is  to  inquire  if  you  have 
preserved  the  Mss.  entitled  "Psyhical  Phenom- 
ena," which  you  copied  for  me  some  months 
ago.  If  you  still  have  it  will  you  kindly  send 
it  to  me,  as  the  printers  have  lost  the  copy 
you  made  and  are  wanting  another  one. 

No  word  has  come  from  you  acknowledging 
the  receipt  of  the  little  book,  "  Mental  Medicine," 
or  the  letter  that  accompanied  it.  I  was  foolish 
enough  to  expect  some  word  of  comment,  but 
like  many  of  my  other  expectations  this  one 
was  not  realized.  I  was  disappointed,  for  others, 
everywhere,  complimented  the  little  book.  I 
felt  like  one  who  having  patiently  plucked  and 
prepared  a  bouquet,  hears  the  exclamations  of 
delightful  appreciation  on  all  sides,  but  receives 
no  sign  of  recognition  from  the  one  for  whom 
it  was  arranged  and  before  whom  it  was  affec- 
tionately placed. 

Sincerely  hoping  that  you  have  had  a  pleasant 
summer  and  that  increasingly  pleasanter  sea- 
sons may  be  your  portion  throughout  all  the 


192  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

days  of  your  life,  I  take  honor  unto  myself  that 
I  am  permitted  once  more  to  subscribe  myself 
simply, 

Your  friend, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


PART   III. 

The  Postlude. 
Our  hopes  oft  fail,  our  lips  grow  pale, 

Before  fate's  hard  decrees ; 
Our  castles  fall  with  crumbling  wall, 

Though  love  pleads  on  his  knees; 
And  it  is  well  for  who  can  tell 

What  blessings  hide  in  loss? 
Oft  what  we  choose,  we  could  but  lose, 

Choosing  for  gold  what's  dross. 

I  see  you  still  upon  the  hill 

Where  we  said  our  last  farewell, 
As  friends  oft  do  in  words  so  few, 

Words  feelings  cannot  tell. 
So  my  dreaming  time  is  any  time 

When  I  may  dream  of  you, 
Some  nights  I  dream,  some  days  I  dream, 

And  would  my  dreams  were  true. 
(See  musical  score,  page  n,  and  12.) 


193 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A 
LOVER   FOUND 

x. 

OMAHA,  JULY  25,  19 — 
My  Dearest  Leola: — 

You  are  a  greedy  little  girl  to  devour  all  of 
that  bunch  of  letters  at  one  sitting.  Not  even 
your  saying  that  you  wished  that  they  had  been 
written  to  you  wholly  justifies  your  naughtiness. 
However,  I  confess  that  I  am  pleased  to  know 
that  you  liked  them,  dear,  for  it  makes  me  hope 
that  you  may  be  fond  of  the  letters  that  I  shall 
write  to  you  directly.  I  am  writing  this  letter 
to  clear  up  the  things  that  are  not  quite  plain 
to  you  from  the  letters  alone.  So  it  will  be 
necessarily  somewhat  of  a  review  of  those  days 
of  suspense. 

The  perseverance  with  which  I  pursued  her 
was  only  natural  under  the  circumstances.  I 
was  fond  of  her  and  she  gave  me  every  reason 
to  believe  that  she  returned  my  affection.  Pos- 
sibly, at  the  beginning,  I  should  have  taken 
my  dismissal  as  final.  What  man  would  have 
done  so  if  he  cared  for  the  woman,  even  a  little 
bit?  Obstacles  only  add  zest  to  the  pursuit, 
where  affection  points  the  way  and  you  women 
honor  us  for  making  serious  efforts  to  win  you, 
even  when  your  love  makes  you  choose  the 
other  fellow.  The  means  that  I  used  to  keep 
my  memory  alive  in  her  heart  were  simple  and 


196  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

fair  and  had  they  not  received  occasional  recog- 
nition, if  not  encouragement,  they  would,  doubt- 
less, soon  have  been  discontinued  and  the  episode 
forgotten.  Let  this  suffice  as  an  apology  for 
my  part  in  the  story. 

Yes,  it  is  true,  I  wrote  poems  to  her,  such  as 
they  are,  and  woman-like,  you  think  I  should 
write  some  to  you  and  send  them  in  my  letters. 
No,  you  did  not  say  so.  Certainly  not.  But 
you  thought  it;  for  I  read  it  between  the  lines 
of  your  letter.  Such  thoughts  are  quite  natural , 
dearie,  and  you  are  very  natural,  perhaps  that 
is  why  I  am  so  fond  of  you.  However,  you 
must  remember  the  fate  that  my  poor  poems 
met  and  then  you  will  understand  my  trembling 
lest  new  efforts  might  meet  the  same  fate.  This 
much  I  promise,  that  some  day  I  shall  write 
you  a  poem. 

The  flowers  which  accompanied  the  birthday 
letter  is  a  matter  of  which  you  would  like  a 
little  further  explanation.  There  were  just  two 
dozen  of  them,  twenty-three  dark  red  beauties, 
one  for  each  year  of  her  age,  and  one  pure  white 
one,  a  fair  prophesy  for  the  future.  They  were 
not  sent  by  common  express  and  delivered  in  a 
stale,  faded  condition,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
they  wrere  sent  by  a  very  special  messenger  and 
delivered  all  fresh  and  beautiful  early  in  the 
day.  You  wondered  how  I  managed  it  five 
hundred  miles  away.  I  will  tell  you,  dear 
reader,  although  I  fear  that  I  am  fast  forming 
he  habit  of  telling  you  everything.  It  did  not 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     197 

seem  easy  for  me  at  first,  but  it  did  when  I  had 
taken  thought.  The  solution  will  also  occur  to 
you  when  I  mention  my  little  friend  of  the  art  gal- 
lery, Miss  Edith  Hyde,  of  sainted  memory.  She 
was  my  kindly  accomplice  and  I  doubt  not  that 
she  is  a  ministering  angel  over  There,  if  there 
are  any  opportunities  of  doing  good  in  the  great 
unknown  country  from  whose  bourn  no  pilgrim 
ever  returns.  I  wrote  to  her  asking  if  she  would 
serve  me  in  such  a  matter.  She  promptly  re- 
plied that  she  would  be  delighted  to  do  the 
commission,  and  the  dear  soul  did  it  as  you 
know. 

The  other  trifling  gifts  which  I  sent,  consisting 
of  souvenirs,  books  and  the  like  were  of  no  par- 
ticular value,  all  save  only  one,  the  book  that 
I  wrote  and  dedicated  to  her.  You  are  not  the 
only  one,  little  reader,  that  was  surprised  that 
Miss  Tutel  did  not  acknowledge  the  honor  that 
I  tried  to  pay  her  by  my  homage.  Yes,  even 
a  comparative  stranger  would  have,  at  least, 
made  a  formal  acknowledgment  of  my  tribute 
of  respect.  I  confess  that  at  the  time  and  for 
a  little  while  thereafter  there  was  a  sore  place 
in  my  heart,  caused  by  her  silence  with  reference 
to  the  tribute  of  respect,  offered  by  the  dedi- 
cation. Well,  let  it  pass,  for,  doubtless  it  was 
my  pride  which  received  the  worst  hurt.  How- 
ever, I  am  unable  to  harmonize  her  action  with 
her  character,  which  was  always  gracious  and 
propriety  itself.  It  is  too  hard  for  me.  Woman 
is  a  paradox.  She  is  at  once  kind  and  severe, 
a  willing  slave  and  a  compelling  tyrant. 


198  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

What  did  I  do  when  I  failed  to  receive  any 
more  answers?  How  you  insist  upon  my  telling 
all  about  myself!  No,  I  did  not  give  up  in 
despair,  for  that  is  not  according  to  human 
nature.  I  bided  my  time  knowing  full  well 
that  sooner  or  later  a  way  would  be  opened, 
by  which  I  should  be  able  to  learn  of  her  welfare. 
No  idle  curiostiy  caused  the  desire  to  know 
about  her;  it  was  an  abiding  interest  in  her 
well  being,  coupled  with  a  fear  that  I  might 
utterly  lose  a  friendship  so  highly  prized.  Had 
her  conduct  been  voluntary  I  should  have  felt 
different  but  it  was  not ;  she  distinctly  stated 
that  she  acted  under  compulsion,  not  from 
choice.  I  hoped  that  she  would  eventually 
assert  herself,  throw  off  the  restraint  and  turn 
back  to  me  again,  and  so  I  bore  the  suspense  as 
best  I  could,  seizing  every  opportunity,  real 
or  fancied,  that  offered  an  excuse  to  write  to 
her.  The  opportunities  were  infrequent,  as  you 
have  seen.  The  last  letter  was  really  written 
to  find  out  whether  she  was  at  home  or  not, 
however,  I  needed  the  manuscript  that  I  sent 
for  as  well.  It  occurred  to  me  that  she  might 
be  away  from  home  and  that  her  absence  ac- 
counted for  the  non-response.  When  the  man- 
uscript was  promptly  returned  I  understood 
and  wrote  no  more.  I  did  not  blame  her,  I  do 
not  blame  her  now,  but  I  resolved  that  when  I 
addressed  her  again  it  would  be  by  word  of 
mouth. 

The  direct  appeals  were  not  the  only  means 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     199 

by  which  I  tried  to  obtain  tidings  from,  my 
erstwhile  friend.  I  searched  the  newspapers 
and  made  inquiry  of  the  people  I  met  from  her 
city.  The  newspapers  told  me  nothing  of  her 
and  the  people  little.  Occasionally  I  ran  across 
some  one  who  had  seen  or  heard  of  her,  that  is 
all.  Those  were  discouraging  days,  but  I  never 
entirely  lost  hope.  It  was  weary  waiting,  but  I 
knew  that  it  would  end,  that  I  should  be  re- 
warded if  I  fainted  not.  And  sure  enough,  a 
ray  of  light  presently  broke  through  the  dark- 
ness of  my  discontent  from  an  unexpected 
source,  promising  to  illumine  the  whole  horizon. 
In  midsummer,  Miss  Cora  Thorn  of  this  city, 
who  was  visiting  in  Chicago  came  to  me  for 
treatment,  continuing  under  my  care  for  above 
six  weeks.  Naturally,  we  became  well  acquaint- 
ed, and  I  asked  the  usual  questions  touching  a 
resident  of  her  city.  She  knew  nothing  of  the 
party — the  city  is  large,  you  know.  However, 
one  day  when  I  explained  somewhat  my  reasons 
for  being  interested  in  the  young  lady's  wel- 
fare, scenting  a  romance  she  became  deeply 
interested,  as  is  usual  with  maiden  ladies  of 
uncertain  age  I  am  told.  From  that  moment 
Miss  Thorn  was  my  trusted  and  trustworthy 
ally,  and  her  sympathy,  so  genuine  and  moth- 
erly, was  a  great  comfort  to  me  just  then.  Be- 
sides, she  was  a  person  to  whom  I  could  talk 
freely,  which  proved  to  be  a  grateful  relief  to 
my  pent  up  feelings.  The  enthusiasm  with 
which  she  espoused  my  cause  was  contagious 


2OO  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

and  I  soon  found  myself  planning  what  she 
would  do  on  her  return  to  Omaha  in  the  latter 
part  of  September.  I  know  now  that  the  dear 
woman  was  just  acting  the  part  of  Good  Samar- 
itan to  me,  a  fellow  creature,  found  bleeding 
by  the  wayside.  I  expected  much  more  than 
she  could  accomplish  as  she  very  well  knew, 
but  she  was  faithful  and  meant  to  do  what  she 
could.  During  those  few  weeks  she  aided  me 
much  by  her  wise  council.  At  last  the  time 
for  her  departure  came  and  she  went,  promising 
to  write  from  time  to  time  of  her  findings.  Then 
came  her  cheerful,  helpful  letters  of  which  I 
shall  write  to  you  in  my  next  epistle. 

Now,  I  think  that  I  have  cleared  up  all  of 
your  difficulties  and  have  prepared  the  way  so 
that  we  can  forge  forward  faster  again.  I  am 
dwelling  as  you  requested,  upon  my  side  of  the 
story  and  you  must  bear  in  mind  that  it  is  your 
request  and  not  my  egotism  that  compels  me 
to  do  so.  I  am  fast  proving  myself  to  be  a 
bit  of  common  clay,  a  trifle  underdone  perchance. 
Well,  I  am  what  I  am,  that  is, 

Your  faithful, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

XI. 

OMAHA,  JULY  26,  19 — 
Leola,  Dear  One: — 

Curb  your  impatience,  you  shall  know 
the  end  of  the  story  very  soon.  If  you  knew 
the  end,  dearie,  your  modesty  would  not  allow 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     2OI 

you  to  say  so  much  about  it.  I  think  that  you 
must  have  been  a  spoiled  child,  and  that 
you  have  not  entirely  outgrown  it,  for  you  al- 
ways want  your  own  way.  Well,  I  am  not  the 
one  to  blame  you,  for  I  like  to  have  my  own 
way  too.  However,  I  doubt  if  I  have  mine  as 
often  as  you  have  yours;  possibly  it  is  a  good 
thing  for  me.  And  let  us  hope,  dear  reader 
that  a  little  lady  whom  we  know  and  admire 
will  not  seriously  suffer  if  for  this  once  she  is 
unable  to  turn  to  the  end  and  peep  at  the  end- 
ing of  the  story  before  settling  down  to  a  con- 
scientious reading  of  it.  I  am  glad  to  know 
that  you  are  impatient  to  know  the  end,  for  so 
am  I. 

I  have  reread  Miss  Cora  Thorn's  letters  to- 
day and  found  them  most  entertaining  apart 
from  their  connection  with  this  narrative. 
They  are  strikingly  characteristic  of  the  writer, 
that  is,  chatty,  cheerful,  sympathetic  and  sen- 
sible. Doubtless  you  would  greatly  enjoy  read- 
ing them  in  full,  but  I  do  not  think  it  would  be 
wise  to  send  them  now — you  may  read  them 
when  I  return  to  Chicago  if  you  like — they 
would  break  the  unity  of  my  story.  I  shall 
excerpt  such  portions  of  them  as  will  serve  to 
tell  you  what  her  generous  interest  in  my  cause 
led  her  to  attempt  and  to  accomplish.  I  thought 
to  tell  in  my  own  language  after  I  had  reread 
the  letters,  of  her  kindly  interest  and  perse- 
vering efforts  in  my  behalf,  but  I  could  not 
begin  to  speak  so  eloquently  of  her  as  her  own 


202  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

words  do,  so  I  shall  let  her  speak  for  herself.  I 
am  sure  that  as  you  read  you  will  think  me  wise 
in  adopting  this  plan  for  you  will  fall  under  the 
spell  of  a  charming  writer. 

A  word  of  explanation  may  not  be  amiss 
before  giving  the  extracts  from  Miss  Thorn's 
letters.  The  mission  she  undertook  did  not 
consist  of  a  prying  into  Miss  Tutel's  private 
affairs.  The  character  of  the  missionary  pre- 
cludes such  a  notion.  The  limitations  of  the 
mission  were  well  within  the  bounds  of  pro- 
priety, consisting  in  the  discovery  of  such  things 
as  were  of  general  report  touching  the  young 
lady's  well-being,  the  man  to  whom  she  was 
probably  engaged,  and  the  prospect  of  her  mar- 
riage to  him. 


MISS  THORN'S  LETTERS. 

OMAHA,  OCTOBER  29,  1899. 
Dear  Dr.  de  Wald: — 

I  have  just  left  the  veranda  and  all  of  the 
glorious  sunshine  and  blue  sky,  because  as  I 
sat  looking  over  "the  Omaha  Bee"  I  saw  a 
name  that  made  me  actually  jump.  I  enclose 
the  paragraph  and  hope  that  it  will  not  give 
you  heart  failure  before  you  realize  that  the 
bridesmaid  was  not  the  bride.  I  should  break 
it  to  you  very  carefully  if  she  were. 

The  first  day  that  I  went  into  school  I  sat 
telling  my  children  a  story,  as  I  said:  "Just 


A   IRIEND    LOST   AND   A    LOVER   FOUND.     203 

then  a  little  brown  mouse  ran  across  her  path," 
there  came  to  me  the  picture  of  another  "Little 
Brown  Mouse,"  who  ran  across  the  path  and 
into  the  heart  of  a  lonely  man,  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  day  you  and  your  romance  seemed  the 
sub-consciousness  of  my  work,  and  I  schemed 
a  little  scheme  which  began  by  a  search  of  the 
T's  in  the  telephone  book  as  soon  as  I  got  home. 
Yes,  there  was  the  name,  just  thrice.  But,  was 
any  of  them  the  family  that  I  wanted?  Up  to 
the  drug  store  I  rushed,  and  into  the  1899 
directory  I  dived.  Her  name  was  not  there,  so 
she  cannot  have  been  in  an  office  very  long.  So 
that  little  scheme  fell  through. 

I  have  inquired  right  and  left  of  people,  long 
residents  of  Omaha,  of  girls  of  about  her  age, 
and  of  people  living  in  her  neighborhood,  all 
in  vain.  No  one  seems  even  to  have  heard  of  her. 
But,  just  as  I  have  found  the  item  that  I  en- 
close to-day,  just  so  surely  some  day  shall  I  run 
across  what  you  want  to  know.  To-day  I 
walked  past  the  house,  nearly  every  blind  was 
closed,  but  at  the  open  front  door  stood  a  wo- 
man whom  I  concluded  was  her  mother.  So 
much  for  your  heart's  desire,  and  now  for  your 
patient.  Very  truly  your  friend, 

CORA  THORN. 


OMAHA.  Nov.  3,  1899. 
Dear  Dr.  de  Wald:— 

By  this  letter  you  may  judge  which  trait  in 
me  is  dominant  to-night;   reserve  or  sympathy, 


204  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

for  really  I  should  wait  until  you  have  answered 
my  first  letter,  but  I  have  a  few  facts  that  will 
interest  you  and  you  shall  have  them. 

I  have  learned  where  Miss  Tutel  is  employed. 
Last  night  she  attended  a  reception  at  the 
Christian  church,  and  assisted  at  serving  the 
refreshments.  I  have  a  little  friend  who  went 
to  school  with  Miss  Tutel.  She  says  that  she 
goes  with  a  young  man,  Frank  Jones  by  name. 
If  he  is  the  person  I  think  him  to  be  he  visited 
my  night  school  last  winter  and  I  took  quite 
a  liking  to  him.  I  expect  to  know  definitely 
soon. 

There  is  an  elderly  couple  who  sit  at  my  table 
where  I  board,  and  last  night  it  occurred  to  me 
at  dinner  that  they  are  Christians,  so  I  asked: 

"Do  you  know  a  family  named  Tutel?" 

"O  yes,  very  well  indeed,  they  said. 

"Do  you  know  Miss  Elga?"    I  asked. 

"Yes,  we  used  to  board  where  they  did,  ten 
years  ago,  when  Elga  was  a  little  girl,"  the  old 
lady  replied,  affably,  and  the  old  gentleman 
added : 

"I  used  to  call  her  'Pickles/  she  was  so  fond 
of  them." 

They  told  me  some  things  about  the  family, 
but  I  could  learn  nothing  about  the  young 
man  in  the  case. 

Very  truly  your  friend, 

CORA  THORN. 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     205 

OMAHA,  NOVEMBER  n,   1899. 
Dear  Dr.  de  Wald:— 

It  was  a  nice  little  visit  that  I  had  with  you 
last  Monday  while  reading  your  letter,  but,  Mr. 
Doctor,  you  can't  have  two  for  one  again,  though 
I  feel  that  you  appreciate  that  I  let  you  know 
as  soon  as  possible  what  I  had  learned.  I  am 
glad  that  you  write  of  my  letters  as  interesting 
and  welcome  to  you,  though  I  knew  that  they 
would  be,  for  the  time  being,  realizing  that  the 
dish  holding  the  food  for  a  hungry  man  is  al- 
ways eagerly  welcomed,  regardless  of  the  server. 

Doctor,  you  speak  of  my  advice  and  judgment. 
I  would  not  dare  advise  you  in  the  matter, 
further  than  I  have  already  done,  that  is,  to 
see  her  again  and  put  your  question  straight 
to  her.  Wait  a  while  until  I  have  learned  a 
little  more  about  how  the  land  lies.  I  wish  you 
had  seen  more  of  her  as  it  is. 

I  read  once  that  a  successful  newspaper  article 
always  had  the  point  of  the  article  in  the  first 
paragraph,  and  the  elucidation  afterwards,  and 
I  fear  that  I  have  made  a  mistake  in  starting 
this  letter,  for  I  have  kept  you  reading  and 
reading,  impatient  for  news,  when  I  should  have 
opened  with:  Dear  Doctor,  I  am  sorry  that  I 
have  been  unable  to  learn  anything  more  for 
you  this  week.  Please  pardon  me. 
Very  truly  your  friend, 

CORA  THORN. 


206          THE  FULFILLING  OF  THE  LAW. 

OMAHA,  DECEMBER  4,  1899. 
Dear  Doctor: — 

I  have  seen  her  and  this  is  how  it  happened- 
I  was  invited  to  take  luncheon  with  some  friends, 
a  mother  and  daughter  last  Saturday,  and  de- 
cided to  accept  the  invitation.  I  asked  my 
friends  where  they  lived  and  thought  that  I 
should  fall  out  of  my  chair  when  I  heard  that 
they  live  next  door  to  your  beloved.  I  asked 
them  if  they  knew  their  neighbors,  the  Tutel's, 
and  was  informed  that  they  knew  them  but 
slightly.  I  told  them  that  I  was  anxious  to  see 
the  young  lady,  for  I  had  heard  much  about 
her.  Saturday  was  a  nasty,  rainy  day,  but  I 
went,  and  as  I  passed  the  house  holding  your 
treasure,  I  saw  sitting  at  the  window  a  young 
lady  with  her  elbow  on  the  window  seat.  I  had 
only  time  to  notice  how  white  her  hand  looked, 
that  she  had  a  fine  forehead  with  dark,  dark 
hair  rolled  back  from  it,  when  she  looked  out. 
I  dropped  my  eyes  and  passed  into  the  door 
opened  for  me  thinking,  "Now  I  have  some- 
thing to  write  that  the  Doctor  will  care  to 
read."  I  was  nearly  an  hour  late  and  as  the 
daughter  took  my  wraps  she  said: 
"  O !  Miss  Thorn,  if  you  had  only  been  here  sooner ! 
The  young  lady  went  by  walking  very  slowly 
and  you  could  have  had  a  fine  look  at  her." 

I  was  seated  at  the  lunch  table  so  that  I  could 
see  her  when  she  went  back  to  her  work.  I 
saw  the  father  go  and  the  mother  come  out  and 
interview  the  garbage  man,  but  not  a  mouse 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     207 

walked  into  my  trap.  Probably  she  does  not 
work  on  Saturday  afternoons. 

"How  does  she  dress  for  the  street?"  I  asked 
of  my  friends. 

"She  wears  a  golf  skirt  of  brown,  an  electric 
seal  boa  with  many  long  tails  on  it  and  a  brown 
walking  hat  with  a  wing  in  it,"  I  am  told. 
That  is  right !  Close  your  eyes  for  a  minute  and 
picture  her.  Do  you  think  that  style  of  dress 
becoming  to  her?  Again  I  asked: 

"Does  the  young  lady  seem  to  have  many  men 
friends?"  and  am  told: 

"She  has  one  who  has  been  very  devoted  to 
her." 

"Describe  him  for  me,"  I  requested  of  the 
mother. 

"I  can  hardly  describe  him,  but  he  seems  to 
be  a  very  ordinary  looking  young  man,"  she 
said.  They  told  me  that  they  saw  him  there  a 
great  deal  as  long  as  the  weather  permitted 
sitting  out  of  doors,  and  that  whenever  he  came 
the  other  members  of  the  family  always  left 
them  alone  on  the  piazza,  and  that  when  he 
was  not  there  she  seemed  always  to  be  reading. 
I  looked  for  Freckles,  but  saw  him  not,  so  I 
asked : 

"  Have  they  a  dog?"  and  am  told: 

"Yes,  they  have  a  very  pretty  black  and  white 
one." 

"What  do  they  call  him?"  I  asked,  but  my 
friends  did  not  know,  although  Mrs.  T.  has 
confided  to  them  the  trouble  that  the  dog  makes 
her  by  running  away  on  all  possible  occasions. 


208  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

As  I  left  my  friends'  I  walked  slowly  by  the 
house,  again  looking  in  as  I  passed.  Miss  Elga 
was  sitting  there  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a 
fashion  book,  but  she  looked  out  so  quickly 
that  I  stopped  looking  in.  I  do  not  want  her  to 
recognize  me  as  "the  woman  who  rubbered" 
if  we  meet,  as  I  am  sure  now  that  we  shall. 
Sincerely  your  friend, 

CORA  THORN. 


DECEMBER  26,  1899. 
Dear  Dr.  de  Wald:— 

Your  gift  which  reached  me  this  morning,  has 
added  much  to  my  Christmas  joy.  I  am  glad 
that  you  thought  of  me.  I  like  to  have  the 
book,  and  most  of  all  am  I  pleased  that  I  now 
feel  free  to  send  you  a  trifle  that  I  had  chosen 
for  you  some  time  ago  and  then  had  hesitated 
to  send.  I  hope  that  you  will  allow  it  to  fulfil 
its  mission  when  your  tired  eyes  plead  for  rest. 
It  is  a  book  mark. 

I  have  been  told  that  "she"  is  not  engaged' 
And  so,  hoping  that  the  New  Year  may  bring 
you  your  heart's  desire,  I  am, 

Your  friend, 

CORA  THORN. 


OMAHA,  JANUARY  13,  1899. 
Dear  Doctor: — 

You  must  blame  Janice  because  your  letter 
has  gone  nearly  two  weeks  unanswered.     Do  you 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER   FOUND.     2OQ 

know  her,  this  Janice  Meredith  ?  Let  me  quote  a 
description  of  her.  It  is  so  like  a  verbal  descrip- 
tion that  I  once  heard  of  another  young  lady 
that  you  will  recognize  it  I  think. 
"A  young  girl  with  a  wealth  of  darkish  brown 
hair  *  *  *  a  little  straight  nose  *  *  *  the 
eyes  brilliant  black,  or  were  at  least  shadowed 
to  look  it  by  long  lashes,  and  the  black  eyebrows 
were  slender  and  delicately  arched." 

I  have  not  seen  her  since  the  time  of  which 
I  wrote. 

Your  friend, 

CORA  THORN. 


OMAHA,  MARCH  6,  19 — . 
Dear  Doctor: — 

Indeed  I  shall  be  at  home  on  Saturday  any 
time  after  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
shall  be  right  glad  to  see  you  and  I  hope  that  I 
shall  soon  have  the  pleasure  of  congratulating 
you  on  the  gaining  of  the  treasure  for  which 
you  come  asking.  I  knew  that  you  would  be 
disappointed  at  hearing  no  more  from  me  of  the 
young  lady,  but  I  could  learn  nothing  more  than 
I  have  written.  I  did  the  best  that  I  could 
for  you,  Doctor.  I  think  you  know  that. 

Fortify  your  soul  the  best  you  can  to  bear 
either  joy  or  disappointment;  for  in  all  of  this 
weary  waiting  of  yours  you  have  been  comforted 
by  hope,  and  if  the  affair  is  not  settled  to  your 
satisfaction  it  will  be  hard  for  you.  Trusting 


3IO  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

that  from  your  interview  with  the  lady  may 
come  your  life's  happiness,  I  am,  very  truly, 

Your  friend, 

CORA  THORN. 


There  are  the  fragmentary  letters.  I  have 
attached  the  dates  and  signature,  dear,  so  that 
they  would  appear  more  like  complete  letters, 
but  the  mutilation  has  robbed  them  of  much 
of  their  attractiveness.  What  I  wish  them  to 
contribute  here  are  the  facts  in  the  case  and  the 
portions  of  them  that  I  have  copied  for  you  will 
do  that  at  least.  They  will  tell  you  in  plain 
terms  what  meager  scraps  of  consolation  I  found 
during  those  months  of  suspense  to  satisfy  my 
hungering  heart.  While  they  really  gave  me 
little  information,  they  served  to  keep  hope 
alive  and  encouraged  me  to  carry  out  my  reso- 
lution to  go  to  Omaha  and  learn  from  Miss 
Tutel's  lips  the  exact  state  of  affairs. 

The  letters  give  you  a  glance  at  the  story 
from  a  woman's  point  of  view.  Miss  Thorn  was 
on  the  ground,  so  to  speak,  and  got  a  glimpse 
of  things  at  close  range,  therefore,  her  opinions 
are  valuable.  I  have  chosen  this  as  the  best 
way  to  introduce  her  to  you.  Later  she  will 
appear  again  in  my  letters  and  express  herself 
more  fully  and  more  to  the  point  If  she  has 
not  appealed  to  you  as  an  interesting,  helpful 
character  it  is  my  fault,  for  she  is  all  of  that  and 
more.  So  much  for  the  letters. 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     211 

Well,  dearie,  you,  or  more  exactly  this  letter, 
are  responsible  for  my  non  attendance  at  church 
to-day.  I  have  spent  the  time  writing  to  you, 
and  I  feel  that  it  has  been  well  spent  for  the 
writing  has  kept  you  constantly  before  my 
mind,  and  has  given  me  a  delightful  sense  of 
your  nearness.  Perhaps  you  have  been  think- 
ing of  me,  also,  and  I  have  felt  it.  I  wish  you 
were  here,  or  that  I  was  with  you  there,  I  have 
many  things  that  I  wish  to  say  to  you — no,  it  is 
only  one  thing,  but  it  seems  everything  to  me 
just  now.  I  cannot  write  it  yet,  so  wishing 
you  every  good  thing,  I  will  say  good-night, 
and  go  to  bed  and  dream — perchance  of  you. 
Faithfully  and  affectionately, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 

XII. 

OMAHA,  JULY  27,  19 — 
Leola,  Dearest: — 

Do  not  let  unreal  fancies  cloud  the  blue  sky 
of  your  sunny  nature.  Real  cares  will  come 
soon  enough,  there  is  no  need  to  imagine  them. 
An  old  man  who  was  about  to  die  called  his  only 
son  to  his  bedside  and  said:  "My  son,  I  have 
suffered  from  many  cares,  most  of  which  never 
came."  Avoid  such  an  experience.  The  dis- 
satisfaction that  you  feel  at  not  being  more  use- 
ful should  not  make  you  unhappy,  for  it  pro- 
claims you  capable  of  a  larger  usefulness  when 
the  demand  shall  be  made  upon  you.  What 
does  it  matter  if  there  is  no  one  that  you  can 


212  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

aid,  there  is  sure  to  be  in  due  time  one  to  whom 
you  can  devote  yourself  to  your  heart's  content. 
Watch  and  pray  that  when  the  opportunity 
comes  you  may  be  ready  for  it,  but  be  care  free 
and  happy  while  you  wait. 

Doubtless,  now  that  you  have  read  Miss 
Thorn's  letters,  you  are  prepared  for,  if  not  ex- 
pecting, the  conclusion  that  I  arrived  at  during 
that  winter,  namely,  that  the  only  wise  thing 
for  me  to  do  was  to  make  a  trip  to  Omaha  and 
satisfy  my  mind.  The  conclusion  was  reached 
only  after  a  severe  mental  debate.  It  was  a 
contest  between  reason  and  affection  in  which 
the  latter  triumphed,  as  is  usually  the  case.  In 
the  end  we  generally  do  what  we  wish  to  do, 
no  matter  what  reason  dictates.  Reason  told 
me  to  take  her  silence  as  a  final  answer,  arguing 
that  self  respect  demanded  it,  especially  since 
I  had  proven  conclusively  that  she  had  received 
my  letters,  and  it  urged  in  detail  all  of  the 
several  appeals  that  I  had  made  to  her  in  vain. 
It  was  plain  that  she  did  not  want  my  friendship. 
I  was  convinced  that  reason  was  right  at  such 
times,  and  resolved  to  give  her  up  and  dismiss 
the  whole  matter  from  my  mind.  Affection  in- 
sisted that  she  was  still  my  loyal  friend,  arguing 
that  it  was  unfair  to  her  to  think  otherwise, 
especially  since  she  had  shown  her  inclination 
to  be  friendly  notwithstanding  the  restraint  put 
upon  her,  and  urging  in  detail  the  various  hinder- 
ing conditions  which  confronted  her  in  spite  of 
which  she  had  written  several  friendly  letters. 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     213 

At  such  times  I  felt  that  affection  was  right; 
that  she  still  wanted  me  for  a  friend,  and  so  I 
resolved  to  go  to  her  and  claim  her  friendship. 
Vacillating  between  these  two  conclusions  I 
passed  the  winter,  inclining  gradually  farther 
from  the  reasoning  of  the  head  and  nearer  to 
the  desire  of  the  heart,  and  early  in  the  spring 
I  wrote  to  Miss  Thorn  announcing  the  date  of 
my  journey. 

The  Paris  Exposition,  which  occurred  during 
the  summer  of  1900  tempted  many  Americans 
to  go  to  Europe,  among  this  number  was  the 
writer.  I  had  long  intended  to  go  to  Europe 
when  a  convenient  season  arrived,  and  this 
appeared  to  be  the  convenient  season.  So  I 
planned  to  spend  the  summer  in  a  course  of 
study  at  the  chief  medical  centers  of  the  old 
world,  namely,  London,  Vienna,  Berlin  and 
Paris.  The  plan  set  May  first  as  the  date  for 
sailing  and  all  preliminaries  had  to  be  adjusted 
accordingly.  As  soon  as  I  had  definitely  de- 
cided to  go  I  began  preparations  in  real  earnest, 
and  the  unsettled  state  of  things  at  Omaha 
being  of  first  importance,  I  arranged  to  go  there 
on  the  gth  of  March.  In  the  other  preparations 
for  my  trip  abroad  you  are  not  so  much  inter- 
ested just  now,  so  I  will  omit  them,  dearie,  and 
give  you  the  details  of  my  second  visit  to  this 
city.  Some  day  I  shall  tell  you  of  my  longer 
voyage. 

It  is  not  easy  for  a  physician  to  leave  his 
practice,  even  for  a  couple  of  days,  his  life  is  so 


214  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

intimately  associated  with  the  lives  of  others. 
I  met  a  shower  of  protests  from  my  patients 
when  I  announced  my  intention  to  be  absent 
from  town  for  two  days.  Several  of  them  as- 
sured me  that  they  would  certainly  die  if  I  went 
away,  and  one  good  woman  actually  fulfilled 
her  prophecy,  although  left  in  more  skilful  hands 
than  mine  during  my  absence.  The  faith  that 
they  have  in  the  physician  probably  accounts 
for  the  result.  "According  to  your  faith  be  it 
unto  you,"  the  Master  said,  and  the  saying  is 
as  true  to-day  as  it  was  two  thousand  yean 
ago.  Faith  is  a  great  thing  for  both  patient 
and  physician.  The  physician  who  has  the  con- 
fidence of  his  patients  is  a  power  for  health  and 
happiness  in  the  community  in  which  he  dwells, 
and  it  will  always  be  considered  a  hardship  to 
have  him  go  away. 

Notwithstanding  the  protests  of  my  patients, 
I  boarded  the  train  on  the  evening  of  March 
pth  and  arrived  in  Omaha  the  next  morning  at 
eight  o'clock.  The  trip  had  but  a  single  pur- 
pose, but  that  could  not  be  accomplished  ac- 
cording to  my  prearranged  plan  until  mid-after- 
noon. However,  the  morning  and  early  after- 
noon were  not  wasted,  they  were  pleasantly 
spent  making  calls.  After  I  had  taken  quarters 
and  breakfasted  at  the  Paxton,  I  paid  my  re- 
spects to  several  physicians  and  Miss  Thorn. 
The  latter  you  are  now  acquainted  with,  through 
her  letters,  so  I  shall  tell  you  of  my  visit  with 
her,  of  the  others  I  need  say  nothing. 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     215 

A  little  after  eleven  o'clock  I  alighted  and 
rang  the  bell  at  Miss  Thorn's  home.  The  lady, 
expecting  me,  appeared  immediately  and  wel- 
comed me  as  though  I  was  some  notable  person. 
Indeed  I  was  to  her,  for  I  had  cured  her  of  a 
troublesome  malady  from  which  she  had  suffered 
greatly  for  years.  The  parlor  was  occupied  so 
she  took  me  into  her  private  sitting  room  on  the 
second  floor,  a  pleasant,  sunny  room  overlook- 
ing South  Omaha,  with  the  Missouri  river  be- 
yond and  the  prairie  in  the  far  distance. 
"Take  this  chair,  Doctor,  I  want  you  to  sit  so 
that  you  can  enjoy  the  view  from  the  window," 
said  my  attentive  hostess. 

"The  prospect  is  splendid,"  I  said,  seating  my- 
self in  the  proffered  chair. 
"I   enjoy  it,"   she  admitted,   "for  it  is  ever 
changing ;  just  now  it  is  a  composition  of  grays ; 
a  little  later  in  the  spring  it  will  be  largely  green ; 
and  so  on,  for  each  season  presents  its  own 
special  coloring  and  beauty." 
"It  is  very  beautiful  now  bathed  in  the  soft 
spring  sunshine,"  I  agreed. 
"I  am  glad  that  the  weather  is  so  pleasant;  it 
seems   propitious   for   your   mission,"  she   sug- 
gested, approaching  the  subject  of  chief  interest. 
"Yes,  the  trip  is  pleasanter  in  fine  weather,  but 
I  shall  be  glad  when  it  is  over,"  I  said,  not 
meaning  the  trip,  but  she  understood  and  we 
fell  to  talking  of  what  I  meant.     We  reviewed 
the  work  she  had  done  for  me  during  the  winter 
and  the  situation  generally.     The  subject  was 
so  absorbing  that  we  were  surprised  at  the  flight 


2l6  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

of  time,  when  luncheon  was  announced,  an 
hour  later.  I  had  no  thought  of  stopping,  but 
my  hostess  was  so  persistent  that  I  stayed.  I 
was  rewarded  for  staying  by  being  presented 
to  the  elderly  couple  who  had  known  Miss  Tutel 
since  she  was  a  little  girl,  however,  we  did  not 
discuss  that  young  lady,  or  her  parents.  The 
luncheon  was  a  boarding-house  meal  and  needs 
no  special  mention.  Notwithstanding  the  un- 
favorable environment,  Miss  Thorn  made  me 
feel  that  there  was  one  lady  in  Omaha  who 
appreciated  and  was  glad  to  have  my  friend- 
ship. And  when  I  left  her  I  felt  that  it  had 
been  good  to  see  her  for,  although  my  plan  had 
not  been  changed,  I  had  been  encouraged  and 
helped  by  her  sympathy  and  counsel.  The 
world  would  be  a  better  place  to  live  in  if  more 
women  were  like  Miss  Cora  Thorn. 

Park  Avenue  where  I  had  spent  the  last  two 
hours,  runs  across  the  hill  near  Hanscomb  Park, 
and  as  I  returned  to  the  hotel  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  that  playground.  It  was  bare  and  deserted, 
requiring  a  stretch  of  imagination  to  identify 
it  with  the  beautiful  place  that  I  had  visited  by 
moonlight  on  a  summer  night  nearly  two  years 
before.  As  I  waited  for  the  electric  car  which 
was  to  convey  me  to  the  city,  I  was  tempted  to 
stroll  down  into  its  bareness,  for  it  would  have 
been  easy  at  that  moment  to  think  that  it 
typified  the  barrenness  of  life,  but  I  thought 
better  of  it,  boarded  the  car  which  just  then 
came  along  and  was  quickly  borne  to  brighter 
scenes  and  to  happier  thoughts.  When  I 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     217 

reached  my  hotel  it  was  nearly  two  o'clock,  the 
hour  that  I  had  set  to  start  for  Miss  Tutel's 
home  to  end  my  long  suspense.  I  spent  the 
quarter  of  an  hour  that  still  remained  before  the 
fateful  hour  in  wondering,  as  I  had  wondered 
many  times  before,  what  would  be  the  result 
of  my  visit.  Would  I  see  her?  Would  she  be 
cruel  or  kind?  Of  one  thing  only  was  I  certain. 
That  was,  that  my  suspense  would  be  at  an  end 
and  that  was  much.  I  fortified  my  soul  to  bear 
either  joy  or  sorrow,  and  when  the  clock  struck 
two  I  went;  with  what  result  you  will  learn 
from  my  next  letter. 

Writing  letters  to  you  is  not  very  satisfactory, 
dearie,  chatting  with  you  would  be  much  better. 
I  long  for  the  renewal  of  the  happy  evenings 
that  we  used  to  spend  together  when  you  read 
to  me.  Sometimes  as  I  sit  alone,  especially 
when  I  am  reading  your  delightful  letters  I 
imagine  that  I  hear  your  sweet,  musical  voice 
and  I  close  my  eyes  and  listen,  for  its  music  is 
very  dear  to  me.  Such  visions,  or  dreams,  or 
fancies,  whichsoever  they  are  make  a  lonely 
man  like  me  envy  the  benedict  with  his  cozy 
fireside,  his  loving  wife  and  merry  children.  I 
have  counted  the  days  and  it  is  less  than  a 
week  that  I  shall  be  compelled  to  write.  Yes, 
I  am  coming  back  to  you,  Leola,  coming  back 
to  tell  you  by  word  of  mouth  how  much  your 
charming  letters  have  meant  to  one  who  is 
very  fond  of  you,  namely, 

Your  affectionate, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 


2l8  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

XIII. 

OMAHA,  JULY  28,  19 — . 
Leola,  Dearest  One: — 

Are  you  quite  sure  that  it  was  not  curiosity, 
rather  than  interest  in  the  subject  matter  that 
caused  you  to  procure  a  copy  of  my  book?  If 
the  book  had  been  written  by  somebody  else 
and  had  been  dedicated  to  some  one  else  would 
you  have  acted  just  the  same?  No,  do  not 
answer,  dearie,  for  it  does  not  matter  why  you 
sought  it  out.  Any  author  should  feel  honored 
to  have  such  a  dear  little  reader  as  you  are. 
The  fact  that  you  have  read  it  makes  me  happy. 
That  you  cared  to  do  so  makes  me  proud  and 
your  praises  are  likely  to  make  me  vain.  I 
appreciate  what  prompts  you,  my  interest  in 
your  letter  gives  me  the  key  to  the  mystery. 

One  thing  omitted  from  my  last  installment 
should  be  explained  before  I  tell  you  of  my  visit 
to  Miss  Tutel's  home,  that  is,  why  I  went  to 
the  house  instead  of  to  the  office  where  she  was 
employed.  The  explanation  is  simple.  I  knew 
that  the  girl's  mother  had  her  confidence  and 
would  know  the  state  of  her  affairs,  so  I  had 
planned  to  see  the  mother  first  and  learn  if  it 
would  be  wise  to  see  the  daughter  at  all.  I  did 
not  want  to  annoy  the  young  lady  with  unwel- 
come attentions.  The  return  of  my  letters 
could  be  effected  through  the  agency  of  the 
mother  and  so  I  need  not  see  the  daughter,  if 
that  was  preferable. 

At  a  little  before  two-thirty  o'clock  I  reached 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     219 

the  house  and  rang  the  bell.  It  was  a  critical 
moment  for  me  and,  naturally,  my  heart  beat 
a  little  faster  than  was  its  wont.  Perhaps  the 
object  of  my  affection  would  come  to  the  door 
for  it  was  Saturday  afternoon.  There  was  a 
sound  of  footsteps  in  the  hall.  What  if  it  were 
she?  Well,  what  did  it  matter,  it  was  she  that  I 
had  come  five  hundred  miles  to  see.  The  door- 
knob turned,  the  door  opened  and  before  me 
stood  a  lady  with  a  kindly  careful  face,  the 
mother.  She  looked  at  me  questioningly,  evi- 
dently not  recognizing  me,  so  I  announced, 
pleasantly : 

"I  am  Dr.  de  Wald  of  Chicago."  A  flash  of 
surprise  lit  up  her  face  as  she  responded,  cor- 
dially : 

"How  do  you  do,  Dr.  de  Wald?  Come  in." 
I  went  in,  wondering  if  other  members  of  the 
family  were  at  home,  and  was  shown  into  the 
parlor.  I  seated  myself  in  the  rocker  that  was 
politely  arranged  for  me,  concluding  from  the 
stillness  of  the  house  that  she  was  at  home  alone 
and  proceeded  to  satisfy  the  unspoken  question 
plainly  written  on  the  patient  face  turned  to- 
ward me. 

"I  have  come  to  find  out  about  your  daughter, 
I  said,  in  my  best  manner,  then  added,  "I  know 
that  you  have  her  confidence. 

"Yes,  Elga  trusts  me  with  her  affairs,"  she 
said,  shortly. 

"Every  girl  should  make  a  confidant  of  her 
mother,  especially  when  she  has  as  good  a 


220  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

one  as  Elga  has,"  I  said,  pleasantly,  "and  be- 
cause I  knew  that  you  were  your  daughter's 
confidant  I  have  come  to  you.  You  know  of 
our  friendship  and  correspondence?" 

"Yes,  she  told  me  about  them,"  she  admitted. 

"Well,  it  is  about  our  friendship  that  I  want 
your  advice.  I  greatly  admire  your  daughter 
and  her  friendship  is  very  dear  to  me.  I  hoped 
that  our  correspondence  might  be  the  means  of 
drawing  us  closer  together  and  now  that  she 
has  ceased  to  write  I  am  dissatisfied.  I  know 
the  reason  that  she  dropped  me,  but  I  hoped 
that  she  might  reconsider  the  matter.  Is  she 
engaged  to  marry  that  young  man?" 

"No,  they  are  not  really  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried," she  answered,  slowly. 

"Are  they  intending  to  marry  some  day?"  I 
asked,  doggedly. 

"Yes,  I  think  so,  but  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  lose 
my  daughter,"  she  replied. 

"Certainly  not,"  I  agreed,  pleasantly,  and  then 
asked:  "Under  the  existing  circumstances,  do 
you  think  it  wise  for  me  to  see  and  talk  with 
your  daughter  before  returning  to  Chicago? 
That  is  what  I  am  here  for." 

"No,  I  think  that  it  would  not  do  any  good 
and  I  am  sure  that  it  would  worry  Elga,"  she 
answered  with  motherly  interest. 

"Very  well,  I  shall  follow  your  advice,  but 
there  is  a  little  matter  that  I  must  ask  you  to 
arrange  for  me,  that  is,  the  return  of  my  letters. 
When  shall  I  call  for  them?  To-night? 


A   FRIEND    LOST   AND   A    LOVER   FOUND.    221 

"I  do  not  know  until  I  have  seen  Elga,"  she 
replied,  somewhat  puzzled. 

"Elga  could  make  a  little  package  of  them 
when  she  returns  from  work  and  I  could  call 
for  it,  say  at  eight  o'clock  this  evening,"  I 
suggested. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  repeated,  musingly,  and 
at  that  moment  the  solution  of  the  matter  was 
made  unnecessary.  The  telephone  bell  rang 
and  she  excused  herself  to  go  and  answer  it. 
She  went  into  the  next  room,  leaving  the  door 
open  so  that  I  was  forced  to  hear  one  half  of 
a  conversation  which  proved  to  be  of  unusual 
interest  to  me  personally.  What  I  heard  was 
as  follows: 

"Hello!  Yes.  That  is  nice.  Are  you  coming 
home?  O,  you  had  better  come.  Why,  there 
is  someone  here  waiting  for  you.  O,  you  know, 
he  is  from  Chicago.  Yes.  Yes,  you  had  better 
come.  That's  a  good  girl!  All  right  I'll  tell 
him.  Come  as  quickly  as  you  can.  Good-bye." 
Presently  my  hostess  came  back  to  me  with 
a  radiant  face  and  a  more  friendly  manner  and 
announced : 

"My  daughter  has  just  now  called  up  the  house 
by  telephone  and  said  that  she  is  coming  home 
directly  and  that  you  are  to  wait  until  she 
comes." 

"I  am  glad  that  she  is  coming,  for  I  want  to 
see  her,"  I  confessed,  and  we  fell  to  talking  of 
the  young  lady  again.  The  subject  was  agree- 
able to  both  of  us;  to  her  because  she  was  her 


222  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

mother,  to  me  for  reasons  which  I  have  con- 
fessed to  you,  dearest  reader,  over  and  over 
again. 

"I  hope  that  the  young  man  is  worthy  of  your 
daughter,"  I  ventured,  wishing  to  hear  more 
about  him. 

"He  is  better  than  most  of  the  young  men," 
she  said,  evasively. 

"No  man  is  good  enough,  in  a  mother's  eyes, 
for  her  daughter,"  I  said. 

"I  love  my  daughter,"  she  declared,  simply 
and  I  honored  her  for  the  saying. 

"She  is  worthy  of  your  love  and  pride,"  I 
suggested. 

"Yes,  she  is  talented,"  she  urged,  looking  at  a 
painting  hanging  on  the  wall,  evidently  her 
work. 

"She  is  also  very  studious,"  I  added. 

"She  is  a  fair  musician,"  she  said,  looking  at 
the  piano  standing  open,  with  a  music  folio  upon 
the  rack. 

"She  is  ambitious,"  I  continued. 

"And  she  is  also  very  good,"  the  mother  con- 
cluded, going  to  the  window  to  see  if  she  was 
in  sight  coming,  but  she  was  not  so  she  resumed 
her  seat.  Next  we  talked  of  the  dog  and  his  fate. 

"How  is  Freckles?"  I  asked,  looking  around 
as  if  I  expected  to  see  him. 

"O,  he  is  gone,  he  ran  away,"  she  answered, 
smiling  at  the  memory  of  his  frequent  desertions. 

"He  was  a  naughty  dog  to  run  away,  and 
showed  bad  taste  to  leave  such  a  good  home  and 
mistress,"  I  remarked,  pleasantly. 


A    FRIEND    LOST   AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     223 

"Yes,  he  used  to  make  me  lots  of  trouble,  he 
would  run  off  every  time  he  had  a  chance,  and 
finally  he  went  and  never  came  back.  Elga  felt 
very  sorry  to  lose  him.  Some  one  stole  him,  I 
suppose,  he  was  so  friendly,"  she  concluded 
and  then  chatted  on  telling  how  fond  they  all 
were  of  the  dog  and  what  a  clever  little  fellow 
he  was,  with  his  tricks  and  good  temper. 

When  we  had  waited  a  long  while,  probably 
twenty  minutes,  for  the  daughter  of  the  house 
and  had  agreed  several  times  that  she  would 
soon  come  the  telephone  bell  rang  again.  Mrs. 
Tutel  went  to  answer  it,  leaving  the  door  open 
as  before,  and  I  heard  one  half  of  a  conversation 
again.  It  was  as  follows: 

"Hello!  Yes  O,  that's  too  bad.  What  shall 
I  tell  him?  Yes,  I  think  so.  All  right  I  will 
tell  him.  What  is  the  number?  Farnam,  suite 
1426.  May  he  come  right  away?  Yes,  I'll 
tell  him.  Come  home  as  early  as  you  can.  All 
right,  good-bye." 

The  good  woman  returned  with  a  troubled 
expression  on  her  kindly  face  and  said,  it  seemed 
to  me  rather  regretfully: 

"It  was  Elga  who  telephoned.  She  is  unable 
to  come  home  as  she  expected,  for  she  has  some 
work  to  do,  but  she  says  that  you  may  call  upon 
her  at  the  office  if  you  wish." 

"I  am  sorry  that  she  is  not  coming  home,  but 
I  shall  go  to  her,"  I  said. 

"It  is  too  bad  that  you  had  to  wait,  but  it 
is  not  far  to  the  office,"  she  said,  apparently 


224  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

reconciled  to  the  notion  of  my  interview  with 
her  daughter. 

"What  building  is  she  in  and  what  is  the  room 
number?"  I  asked,  although  I  already  knew. 

"The  Farnam  Building,  room  1426,"  she  re- 
plied, pleasantly. 

"I  am  not  sorry  that  I  had  to  wait  for  it  gave 
me  the  pleasure  of  a  little  visit  with  you/'  I 
I  said,  honestly,  as  I  took  my  leave  of  the  mother 
and  turned  my  steps  toward  the  daughter.  I 
did  not  feel  at  all  certain  that  my  visit  with 
the  latter  would  be  so  pleasant,  nevertheless, 
I  had  no  thought  of  turning  back  now  that  I 
had  begun  in  real  earnest.  I  meant  to  see  the 
matter  through  to  the  end.  So  I  went  on,  car- 
rying my  overcoat,  for  the  day  was  as  warm 
as  midsummer. 

I  am  glad  that  I  had  that  little  visit  with 
Mrs.  Tutel,  for  it  showed  me  where  the  daughter 
had  gotten  her  best  traits  of  character.  I  went 
to  her  interested  in  her  for  her  daughter's  sake, 
but  I  came  away  admiring  her  for  her  own 
sake.  Manifestly,  she  was  a  mother  worthy 
of  that  sacred  name;  she  was  kind,  thoughtful, 
and  sympathetic,  and  her  face  and  manner  ex- 
pressed a  patient  self-denial,  due  to  a  habit  of 
long  years  of  maternal  devotion.  These  loving 
mothers  are  the  unsung  heroines  whose  influence 
is  more  potent  in  the  land  than  those  whose 
names  are  proclaimed  with  banners  and  bands 
of  music  by  reason  of  some  minor  achievements. 
There  are  three  names  closely  associated  in  my 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     225 

mind.  They  are  these,  mother,  home  and  heav- 
en, for  where  mother  is  there  is  home  and  what 
is  heaven  but  a  beautiful  home  presided  over 
by  a  loving  mother? 

The  visit  at  the  home  prepared  me  for  the 
visit  at  the  office.  It  gave  me  most  of  the  in- 
formation that  I  had  gone  to  obtain,  but  it  did 
not  give  me  what  I  most  desired,  that  is,  a 
chance  to  see  and  converse  with  Miss  Tutel. 
I  am  convinced  now  that  nothing  short  of  seeing 
her  would  have  been  satisfactory,  but  I  was 
not  conscious  of  it  then.  I  was  prepared,  by 
what  I  had  learned,  to  be  more  patient  and  philo- 
sophical than  I  might  otherwise  have  been 
however,  I  shall  let  you  judge  of  this  from  our 
conversation  which  will  appear  in  my  next 
letter. 

The  next  installment  will  satisfy  your  curios- 
ity, dearie,  about  the  ending  of  this  story,  but 
not  of  my  life's  story.  Of  that  I  am  ignorant 
myself.  I  shall  ask  you  to  help  me  find  out  the 
ending  of  that  larger  story,  compared  with 
which  this  story  is  a  trifling  episode.  After 
another  letter  or  two  I  expect  to  take  the  matter 
up  in  real  earnest.  Perhaps  you  will  be  able 
to  help  me  more  than  you  imagine.  At  any 
rate,  I  am  expecting  very  much  from  you. 

Trusting  that  you  will  not  fail  me  on  the 
great  day,  and  praying  that  it  may  speedily 
come,  I  am  impatiently,  but  fondly  waiting  to 
be 

Your, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 


226  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

XIV. 

OMAHA,  JULY  29,  19 — . 
My  Loyal  Leola,  Dearest: — 

So  someone  has  been  saying  unkind  things  of 
me  to  you?  Never  mind,  dear,  for  probably 
they  are  as  untrue  as  they  are  unkind.  Some 
people  go  about  doing  evil,  that  seems  to  be 
their  mission  in  the  world.  They  are  human 
blow-flies  which  taint  society.  Josh  Billings 
refers  to  them  when  he  says  that  there  are  some 
people  so  mean  that  they  would  tell  an  angle- 
worm that  his  tail  is  too  long  for  his  body.  The 
best  way  to  deal  with  them  is  to  ignore  and  for- 
get their  sayings.  I  care  not  what  they  say 
about  me,  except  in  so  far  as  it  pains  my  friends, 
and  especially  you.  Yes,  I  know  that  my  loyal 
little  girl  does  not  believe  the  rubbish.  Let  us 
pity  them  rather  than  blame  them,  for  scandal 
always  injures  the  monger  more  than  it  does 
anyone  else.  The  mean  thoughts  return  and 
feed  upon  their  mean,  dried-up  souls  and  make 
their  lean  lives  leaner. 

The  walk  from  the  home  to  the  office  did  not 
take  long,  but  it  furnished  time  enough  for 
many  thoughts  to  flit  through  my  mind.  The 
new  matter  that  I  had  just  acquired  was  in  an 
undigested  state  and  needed  attention,  but  no- 
thing could  be  done  until  I  had  seen  my  erst- 
while friend,  for  she  was  the  center  and  circum- 
ference of  it  all.  So  making  little  effort  to 
think,  I  found  my  way  to  the  office  building 


A   FRIEND    LOST   AND   A    LOVER   FOUND.    227 

and  was  quickly  carried  by  the  elevator  up  to 
suite  No.  1426. 

The  door  of  the  suite  stood  open  so  I  entered 
unannounced.  Three  men  were  in  the  outer 
room  engaged  in  a  discussion,  apparently  politi- 
cal, and  when  I  inquired  for  Miss  Tutel  one 
of  them  pointed  toward  the  door  of  an  inner 
room.  Following  his  mute  direction,  I  entered 
the  room,  which  was  a  private  office,  and  found 
the  object  of  my  search  sitting  at  a  desk  writing. 
When  I  entered  she  arose  and  came  toward 
me,  as  she  did  so  I  studied  her  closely.  She 
was  the  same  girl,  but  much  changed.  The 
change  in  the  expression  on  her  face  was  most 
marked.  Before,  it  was  always  lit  up  by  a  glad, 
friendly  smile,  but  now  it  was  cold  almost  to 
indifference.  The  figure  and  manner  were  also 
changed;  the  figure  was  fuller  and  less  erect; 
the  manner  less  buoyant  and  girlish.  She  was 
dressed  in  black,  perhaps  that  had  something 
to  do  with  it.  At  any  rate  a  sense  of  disap- 
pointment came  over  me  as  I  extended  my 
hand  and  said,  heartily: 

"I   am  glad  to  see  you  again,  Miss  Tutel." 
Giving  me  the  tips  of  her  fingers  she  said, 
rather  stiffly  it  seemed  to  me : 

"I  am  sorry,  but  I  cannot  say  the  same." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,"  I  said,  seriously  and  then 
continued:  "I  have  just  come  from  your 
home." 

"Yes,  I  know  that  you  have,"  she  responded, 
with  a  little  show  of  anger. 

"I  wished  to  see  your  mother  before  I — " 


228  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"You  wanted  to  pump  the  old  lady,"  she  inter- 
rupted, her  anger  increasing  rapidly. 

"No,"  I  returned,  coolly,  "I  was  about  to  say 
when  you  interrupted  me  that  I  wished  to  see 
your  mother  before  I  came  to  you  to  ask  her 
if  she  thought  it  was  wise  for  me  to  see  you." 

"And  what  did  she  say?"  she  asked,  with  some- 
thing like  a  sneer. 

"She  advised  me  not  to  see  you,"  I  said,  evenly. 

"  O,she  did?"  she  inquired,  in  a  haughty  manner. 

"Yes,  and  I  agreed  to  follow  her  advice,"  I 
answered,  patiently. 

"But  you  are  here,"  she  protested,  warmly. 

"We  were  arranging  a  way  for  me  to  get  my 
letters  back  without  annoying  you  when  you 
called  up  the  house  by  telephone  and  said  that 
you  were  coming  home  and  that  I  was  to  wait 
until  you  came,"  I  explained.  "While  I  waited, 
I  had  a  pleasant  chat  with  your  mother,  until 
you  telephoned  again  and  said  that  I  might 
come  here  to  see  you." 

"O,  that  is  the  way  it  happened,"  she  said, 
somewhat  mollified. 

"Now,  if  you  will  kindly  tell  me  when  I  may 
call  for  my  old  letters,  I  shall  not  keep  you  from 
your  work  any  longer,"  I  said,  with  exaggerated 
politeness,  for  I  imagined  that  the  work  was 
simply  an  excuse. 

"They  have  not  all  been  preserved,"  she  said, 
assuming  a  more  friendly  attitude  toward  me 
now  that  she  perceived  that  I  was  not  likely  to 
annoy  her  or  make  a  scene.  "While  my  brother 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     22Q 

was  travelling  last  summer  he  wrote  me  fre- 
quently and  I  think  that  some  of  your  letters 
were  burned  when  I  destroyed  a  lot  of  his  letters 
that  had  accumulated. 

"Very  well,  I  will  take  what  remain,"  I  insisted, 
earnestly,  "for  it  was  understood  that  the  letters 
were  to  be  returned  to  me  when  you  ceased  to 
care  for  them  and  that  time  has  now  arrived." 

"I  never  was  what  you  thought  me  to  be,"  she 
burst  forth,  impulsively  in  self-defense  at  my 
implied  rebuke.  "You  ascribed  all  sorts  of  vir- 
tues and  qualities  to  me  that  I  have  never 
possessed." 

"Yes,  that  is  quite  true,"  I  confessed,  not  in 
clined  to  flatter  her  at  that  moment,  "but  you 
had  the  possibilities  within  you  and  you  might 
have  attained  to  every  one  of  those  desirable 
virtues  and  qualities." 

"Let  me  give  you  a  little  advice,  Dr.  de  Wald," 
she  said,  loftily. 

"I  shall  thank  you  for  advice,  for  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  good,"  I  returned,  bowing  low  in  polite 
deference. 

"Do  not  believe  all  that  the  girls  say  to  you," 
she  advised,  with  profound  worldly  wisdom. 

"No  doubt  that  is  wise  counsel,  but  I  hardly 
need  it  now,  for  it  is  said  that  experience  is  a 
good  teacher,"  I  said,  seriously. 

"I  didn't  mean  many  of  the  things  that  I  wrote 
to  you,"  she  said,  continuing  her  defense.  t%I 
was  just  romancing  and  wrote  anything  that 
came  into  my  mind." 


230  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

"Allow  me  to  give  you  a  little  advice/'  I  said, 
mocking  her  judicial  air  of  a  few  moments  be- 
fore. "You  will  always  find  it  best  in  the  end 
to  stick  to  the  truth,  although  it  does  seem  a 
little  old-fashioned  at  times." 

My  thrust  went  home  as  I  intended  that  it 
should  and  the  young  lady  flushed  confusedly  as 
she  said,  defiantly: 

"I  am  no  worse  than  the  other  girls — "  and 
then  added,  quickly,  "and  no  better  either," 
for  she  perceived  that  she  was  getting  tangled 
up  in  her  defense.  It  seemed  to  me  then,  and 
I  have  thought  the  same  since,  that  she  was 
acting  the  part  for  the  purpose  of  making  me 
dislike  her.  At  any  rate  she  did  not  appear 
at  her  best. 

"Probably  not/  I  admitted,  indifferently,  as 
I  looked  at  her  and  wondered  "if  so  fair  a  seem- 
ing "  could  cover  a  soul  so  mean  as  she  tried  to 
make  me  believe  hers  to  be.  At  that  moment 
she  came  nearly  making  me  despise  her,  but  I 
remembered  that  I  was  largely  responsible  for 
the  equivocal  position  which  she  occupied  and 
so  forgave  her  instead. 

"Are  you  intending  to  remain  long  in  Omaha?" 
she  asked,  changing  the  subject,  evidently  she 
had  finished  her  defense. 

"That  depends  upon  you  partly,"  I  answered, 
carelessly. 

"What  have  I  to  do  with  it?"  she  asked, look- 
ing puzzled. 

"I  came  here  expressly  to  see  you,  so  when 
my  business  with  you  is  finished  I  shall  imme- 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     231 

diately  return  to  Chicago,"  I  explained,  frankly. 

"Seeing  me  is  an  expensive  luxury,  is  it  not?" 
she  asked,  sarcastically. 

"I  think  that  I  shall  be  well  paid  for  coming," 
I  replied,  seriously  and  then  asked,  "when may 
I  call  for  the  letters?" 

"I  think  that  I  would  rather  send  them  to  you 
if  that  will  do.  Will  it  ?"  she  asked,  after  a  little 
thoughtful  deliberation. 

"Yes,  if  it  will  be  more  convenient  for  you," 
I  assented,  politely. 

"Thank  you,"  she  returned,  almost  pleasantly 
and  explained  "I  may  not  be  able  to  gather 
them  up  immediately." 

"Shall  I  leave  you  my  card,  or  have  you  my  ad- 
dress?" I  asked,  taking  out  my  card- case,  for  I 
was  determined  to  leave  no  excuse  for  her  to 
avoid  sending  the  letttrs." 

"Yes,  I  have  your  address,  Dr.  de  Wald,"  she 
answered,  somewhat  resentfully,  evidently  think- 
ing that  my  precautions  were  unnecessary,  if 
not  a  reflection  upon  her  sincerity. 

"No  offense  was  intended,"  I  assured  her, 
pleasantly,  "but  I  am  anxious  to  receive  the 
package  before  I  sail." 

"  Sail  ?  Are  you  going  away  ?"  she  asked,  quick- 
ly, her  curiosity  aroused. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  to  Europe,"  I  replied,  indiffer- 
ently. 

"Is  it  to  be  a  pleasure  trip?"  she  persisted. 

"I  am  going  partly  for  pleasure  and  partly 
for  study,"  I  answered,  carelessly. 


232  THE   FULFILLING   OF   THE    LAW. 

"Are  you  going  alone?"  continued  my  inquisi- 
tor, suspiciously. 

"Not  entirely  alone,"  I  replied,  ambiguously, 
for  I  caught  the  drift  of  her  thoughts. 

"You  may  depend  on  me,  Doctor,  I  shall  send 
the  package  in  due  time,"  she  assured  me, 
assuming  the  kind  air  that  was  habitual  with 
her  in  those  happy  days  of  the  long  ago. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  I  said,  sincerely,  pre- 
paring to  go. 

"Arn't  you  afraid  of  mat  de  mer  on  your  ocean 
voyage?"  she  asked,  laughingly  as  we  moved 
toward  the  door. 

"No,  but  I  shall  have  to  take  the  chance  of 
having  it,"  I  responded,  as  pleasantly  as  I  could, 
but  I  was  not  in  the  mood  for  funning. 

"Have  you  never  been  out  on  the  ocean  sail- 
ing?" she  questioned,  brightly. 

"I  have  sailed  along  the  coast,  but  have  never 
crossed  the  pond,"  I  answered,  patiently;  I  was 
ready  to  go. 

"I  was  never  on  the  ocean,  but  I  hope  to  be 
some  day,"  she  went  on,  gaily. 

"May  your  hopes  all  be  realized  and  your  life 
be  a  very  happy  one,"  I  said,  seriously,  extend- 
ing my  hand  to  say  farewell. 

"Thank  you,  the  same  to  you,  Dr.  de  Wald," 
she  returned,  sincerely,  taking  my  hand  in  the 
old,  friendly  way.  As  I  held  her  hand  and 
looked  into  her  upturned  face,  I  said,  simply: 

"Good-bye,"  the  words  that  I  had  objected  to 
in  her  letter  as  conveying  too  much  finality. 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     233 

I  had  pleaded  then:  "Say  au  revoir  and  not 
good-bye,"  but  now  I  said  it  in  a  way  that 
emphasized  the  idea,  for  I  wished  her  to  feel 
the  finality  of  the  words.  I  think  that  she 
understood,  for  she  became  quite  serious  as  she 
repeated  the  words  heartily: 
"Good-bye,"  and  I  wondered  if  she  too  thought 
of  the  other  parting  two  years  before  when  our 
hearts  were  full  to  overflowing  with  friendly 
feelings  and  sympathy,  but  it  was  not  for  me  to 
know  what  she  thought,  or  if  she  felt  anything 
but  relief  at  my  departure.  And  so  we  parted, 
she  to  go  her  way  and  I  to  go  mine,  henceforth 
to  be  as  strangers,  perchance,  never  to  meet 
again. 

Little  remains  to  tell,  dearie,  of  that  eventful 
loth  of  March,  1900  anno  domini.  I  returned 
to  the  hotel  for  one  of  my  books  which  I  had 
promised  to  leave  for  Miss  Thorn,  delivered  the 
book  at  her  home — she  was  not  in — and  then 
went  to  Swanson's  for  one  of  his  justly  cele- 
brated dinners.  After  deliberately  attending 
to  those  things  I  went  to  the  Union  Depot, 
arriving  just  in  time  to  catch  the  evening  train 
for  Chicago.  On  the  morning  of  the  nth  of 
March  I  was  on  duty  again  among  my  patients. 
As  I  write  of  going  back  to  Chicago  I  am 
seized  with  an  almost  irresistible  desire  to  go 
back  to  you,  dear  one,  for  I  am  lonely  and 
unhappy  away  from  you  to-night.  I  am  com- 
ing soon  and  it  will  be  a  glad  day  when  I  come, 
for  I  shall  see  my  Lady  Loyalty.  Let  no  man 


234  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

poison  your  pure   mind  with   vile   calumnies. 
You  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in 
Your  affectionate, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 

XV. 

OMAHA,  JULY  30,  19 — 
Leola,  Dearheart: — 

Somebody  sent  you  two  dozen  of  American 
Beauty  roses?  How  good  of  somebody !  There 
was  nothing  to  tell  who  sent  them,  no  card,  or 
note,  or  anything?  That  was  a  serious  oversight 
and  likely  to  puzzle  you.  You  think  that  people 
who  send  flowers  should  send  their  names  with 
them,  so  do  I.  When  I  send  you  flowers,  dearie, 
I  shall  have  my  name  on  them,  written  large 
so  that  you  may  not  think  that  they  are  from 
somebody  else.  I  heard  a  girl  say,  once  upon  a 
time,  that  she  could  tell  intuitively  who  sent 
her  flowers,  and  you  know  her  very  well.  You 
must  not  suspect  me,  for  I  can  prove  an  alibi, 
you  know.  How  could  a  fellow  be  guilty  when 
he  was  five  hundred  miles  away  from  the  place 
where  the  deed  was  done?  Confidentially  I 
am  sure  that  the  flowers  were  sent  by  somebody 
who  is  in  love  with  you,  if  you  know  anyone 
who  is,  suspect  him,  for  he  is  the  guilty  party. 

I  have  waited  until  your  letter  came  before 
writing,  for  I  wished  to  conclude  my  story  in  this 
letter.  Now,  I  shall  be  able  to  do  so,  for  you, 
have  indicated  in  your  letter  the  things  that 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     235 

need  a  few  more  words  of  explanation  and  com- 
ment. After  these  few  words  have  been  written 
I  shall  let  the  curtain  fall,  for  my  comedy  of 
sentiment,  which  has  been  re-enacted  for  you 
will  be  at  an  end. 

The  visit  with  Miss  Tutel  was  a  disillusion  to 
me.  I  discovered  that  she  was  right  when  she 
insisted  that  she  was  not  what  I  thought  her  to 
be.  Unconsciously,  I  had  idealized  her  so  that 
to  me  she  stood  for  an  ideal  personality,  while 
in  fact  she  was  something  quite  different.  My 
mistake  was  natural  enough  when  it  is  remem- 
bered that  I  saw  her  under  unusual  circum- 
stances and  only  a  few  times  and  the  enchant- 
ment of  distance  did  the  rest ;  and  yet  I  cannot 
believe  that  I  was  altogether  deceived  in  her. 
The  possibilities  of  an  approximation  to  my 
ideal  were  certainly  in  her  nature  and  might 
have  been  developed.  Many  little  traits  of  char- 
acter proclaim  this  fact.  No,  the  difficulty  was 
not  that  my  ideal  was  too  high,  I  am  sure  of 
this,  for  I  have  since  found  a  woman  who  meets 
all  of  the  requirements  of  that  ideal.  Ideals 
are  factors  that  enter  into  every  romance.  Our 
ideals  are  the  standards  by  which  we  measure, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  every  person  that 
we  meet.  Those  who  resemble  our  ideals  are 
the  more  readily  admitted  into  our  confidence 
and  friendship.  The  person  who  closely  resem- 
bles the  ideal  is  not  subjected  to  the  severe 
tests  that  are  required  of  those  who  are  less  like 
it,  and  consequently  we  are  more  often  thor- 


236  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

oughly  deceived  in  them.  Sudden,  strong  at- 
tachments are  usually  formed  under  these  con- 
ditions and  they  are  beautiful  when  they  are 
not  followed  by  disappointing  disillusionments, 
as  is  too  often  the  case. 

I  have  never  felt  inclined  to  condemn  her, 
not  even  for  that  last  interview,  for  I  cannot 
believe  that  she  was  insincere,  except  on  that 
single  occasion.  At  the  beginning,  our  friend- 
ship was  the  natural  development  of  an  attrac- 
tion between  two  congenial  souls,  and  later,  up 
to  the  time  of  the  illness  of  her  nameless  friend, 
she  acted  perfectly  natural.  The  superstitious 
fear  which  she  had  that  God  was  going  to  take 
away  her  friend  to  punish  her  for  her  deception 
was  certainly  unfeigned.  Moreover,  her  letters, 
of  which  you  have  only  an  imperfect  reflection 
through  mine  were  sincerity  itself.  So  I  shall 
always  believe  that  she  was  sincere,  although 
appearances  were  against  her  sometimes,  pre- 
ferring to  be  deceived  rather  than  to  condemn 
her  unjustly. 

The  loyalty  I  feel  for  Miss  Tutel's  memory  I 
I  hold  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  both  of  my  lady 
confidants  are  inclined  to  censure  her.  You  are 
not  alone,  dearie,  for  Miss  Thorn  is  much  more 
pronounced  in  her  opinion.  Women  are  a  little 
severe  upon  their  own  sex.  I  promised  you 
that  Miss  Thorn  would  have  more  to  say  at 
another  time  and  this  is  the  time.  I  have  an- 
other letter  from  her  which  I  thought  it  best 
to  reserve  until  you  had  formed  an  independent 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     237 

opinion.     Besides,  this  is  its  proper  place  in 
the  story,  so  I  will  give  it  to  you  now. 

OMAHA,  MARCH  31,  1900. 
Dear  Dr.  de  Wald:— 

Three  weeks  ago  to-day  you  were  here  and  it 
seems  like  a  dream  to  me  that  I  saw  you.  I 
shall  always  regret  that  I  did  not  dine  at  home 
that  evening  that  I  might  have  been  in  when 
you  came  out  with  the  book.  Thank  you  very 
much  for  it. 

I  confess  that  your  letter  was  a  relief  to  me, 
for  I  had  felt  anxious  about  you.  The  trouble 
of  any  friend  of  mine  is  always  my  trouble  and 
I  feared  that  your  awakening  might  be  a  shock 
to  you.  However,  you  seem  to  be  taking  it  in 
a  wise  manner  and  I  am  glad. 

Do  you  remember  saying  to  me,  when  you 
first  told  me  of  the  affair,  "I  see  that  you  judge 
the  young  lady"?  I  have  never  changed  my 
mind  since  from  anything  that  I  have  heard  of 
her.  Never  have  I  heard  of  her  anything  kindly. 
She  is  pronounced  "peculiar"  by  every  one, 
and  while  I  do  not  for  a  moment  imagine  that 
she  realized  what  she  was  doing,  she  was  never 
in  earnest  as  you  were. 

The  affair  ended  as  I  knew  that  it  would, 
except  that  I  did  not  think  that  she  would  see 
you.  It  was  well  that  you  did  talk  with  her, 
for  had  you  not  seen  her  you  would  have  gone 
away  still  chasing  your  will-o-the-wisp. 

There  are  other  brown  eyes  in  the  world, 


238  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Doctor,  strong,  tender  and  true  ones,  and  I 
hope  that  before  long  you  will  find  the  right 
pair  to  shine  in  your  home  and  be  a  life's  joy 
and  comfort  to  you. 

I  am  writing  by  my  east  window,  and  so  clear 
is  the  atmosphere  that  I  can  see  away  over  into 
Iowa.  Very  truly  your  friend, 

Cora  Thorn. 

Why  Miss  Tutel  was  so  unpopular  I  do  not 
know,  but  I  think  it  must  have  been  because 
she  was  misunderstood.  One  who  is  misunder- 
stood is  likely  to  be  unpopular  for  that  very 
reason.  The  knowledge  that  he  is  not  under- 
stood and  is  misjudged  causes  him  to  hold 
himself  aloof  and  to  appear  unsociable.  And 
the  report  that  one  is  peculiar,  once  started, 
whether  true  or  not,  like  the  brook,  "goes  on 
forever."  In  a  different  environment  Miss  Tutel 
would  have  been  a  very  different  character.  I 
insist  on  this  because  she  showed  her  real  self  to 
me  in  an  unconventional  and  natural  manner 
and  I  recognized  her  charm  and  worth.  Unfor- 
tunately we  none  of  us  live  on  the  high  plane  of 
his  best  self.  However,  we  all  ought  to  live  up 
there. 

A  package  containing  my  old  letters  came  to 
me  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of  weeks.  They 
were  all  there  except  two  short  unimportant 
ones  which  I  easily  reproduced  from  memory. 
What  the  letters  contained  you  know  for  you 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     239 

have  read  them.  I  was  glad  to  receive  them, 
but  not  surprised,  for  I  was  expecting  them. 
And  shortly  after  the  package  came  directed  in 
Miss  Tutel's  well-known  handwriting  I  sent  her 
the  following  note  of  acknowledgment : 

CHICAGO,  MARCH  28,  1900. 
Miss  Elga  Grace  Tutel, 
Dear  Friend: — 

The  package  of  old  letters  are  safely  at  hand 
and  in  due  time.  I  thank  you  heartily  for  the 
same. 

As  I  am  making  this  acknowledgment  permit 
me  to  say  that  I  was  not  deceived  by  either 
your  words  or  your  manner  at  our  last  meeting. 
I  understand  that  your  motive  was  to  make  me 
dislike  you,  but  it  was  unnecessary  to  make  me 
do  that,  for  I  was  quite  prepared  to  receive  the 
letters  and  depart  to  trouble  you  no  more  with- 
out disliking  you. 

Once  again  let  me  wish  you  simply, 
Good-bye, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 

One  last  question  remains  to  be  answered, 
namely,  did  I  love  the  young  lady?  The  answer 
to  the  question  depends  upon  the  definition 
adopted,  for  the  definitions  of  that  term  are 
legion.  According  to  some  of  them  I  did,  and 
according  to  others  of  them  I  did  not  love  her. 
If  love  is  simply  a  friendship  grown  fonder,  then 
I  loved  her,  but  if  love  is  a  two-souls-with-but- 


240  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

a-single-thought-and- two-hearts  -  that  -  beat- as  - 
one  sort  of  feeling,  then  I  did  not  love  her.  I 
admired  her,  respected  her  and  liked  her,  but  I 
did  not  love  her.  According  to  the  Apostle 
Paul,  "Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,"  and  is 
an  evolutionary  process.  The  most  conclusive 
proof  to  me,  dearie,  that  I  did  not  love  her  is  the 
fact  that  I  have  learned  to  love  somebody  else 
and  that  I  recognize  the  difference  in  my  feelings. 
I  intend  to  tell  you  about  the  other  case  in  my 
next  letter. 

Now  I  have  fulfilled  my  promise  to  you  to  tell 
the  story  of  my  romance,  for  the  tale  is  ended.  I 
have  taken  you  into  my  confidence,  confessing 
all  of  the  experience  together  with  all  of  the 
emotions  and  motives  involved  in  it.  It  is  not 
a  story  with  a  moral,  although  it  has  taught  me 
a  valuable  lesson  and  I  hope  it  has  not  been 
without  interest  to  you.  You  like  realistic  sto- 
ries and  since  this  is  realism  itself  you  should 
like  it  apart  from  any  interest  you  may  have  in 
me.  I  have  told  the  story  simply,  leaving  much 
for  your  intuition  and  imagination.  My  story 
telling  was  made  easy  by  my  knowledge  of  the 
capacity  of  my  reader. 

Now,  dearest  reader,  I  shall  lay  down  my 
pen  as  a  story  teller  and  resume  my  roll  of 
ordinary  citizen.  In  this  capacity  I  shall  write 
to  you  to-night  of  a  matter  that  I  have  delayed 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     241 

until  I  had  completed  the  story.  I  have  been 
expecting  to  come  to  you  at  the  end  of  this 
week,  but  my  coming  is  not  as  certain  as  I  had 
anticipated.  You  shall  know  all  about  these 
delayed  matters  shortly  and  shall  have  a  chance 
to  cast  your  vote  which  is  likely  to  be  decisive. 
Until  then  reserve  a  large  place  in  your  affections 
for  Your  devoted, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 
P.  S.     How  about  the  flowers?  V. 

XVI. 

Omaha,  July  30,   19 — . 
Leola,  Sweetheart: — 

Your  letters  are  delightfully  frank  and  friendly 
and  they  make  me  long  for  the  day  when  I  shall 
see  you  again.  I  am  glad  to  be  your  ideal  man 
and  charmed  to  have  you  tell  me  so,  but  I 
tremble  lest  I  shall  disappoint  you  when  you 
know  me  more  intimately.  Ideals  are  hard  to 
realize  in  flesh  and  blood.  I  trust  that  I  shall 
stand  the  test,  but  I  know  that  much  will  de- 
pend upon  your  own  charity.  None  is  perfect; 
indeed,  none  is  as  good  as  he  appears,  that  is 
why  we  so  often  shock  our  friends.  We  are  not 
what  we  seem  to  be  either  to  our  friends,  or  to 
ourselves,  the  real  man  is  inscrutable.  How 
often  we  are  surprised  at  some  sudden  mani- 
festation of  weakness  or  strength  in  ourselves! 


242  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Because  I  am  aware  of  many  of  my  weaknesses 
and  know  how  far  short  I  am  of  your  ideal  I 
pray  you,  dearest,  do  not  expect  very  much  of 
your  ideal  man.  However,  knowing  that  I  am 
your  ideal  will  inspire  me  to  higher  ambitions 
and  to  a  nobler  life. 

I  too  have  an  ideal  of  a  good  woman,  and 
what  you  have  told  me  of  your  ideal  makes  it 
easy  for  me  to  tell  you  of  mine.  I  thought  once 
that  I  had  found  my  ideal  woman,  of  her  I  have 
been  telling  you,  but  now  I  know  that  I  have 
found  her  and  of  her  I  am  about  to  tell  you.  I 
found  my  ideal  woman  in  Chicago,  I  sought  her 
companionship,  I  cultivated  her  acquaintance, 
I  found  her  the  realization  of  my  ideal  and  I 
learned  to  love  her.  You,  my  darling,  are  the 
woman.  I  have  long  known  that  I  love  you, 
but  I  have  not  been  so  sure  of  your  feelings 
toward  me,  so  I  set  myself  the  task  of  writing 
the  story  of  my  romance  to  you,  before  telling 
you  of  my  love  for  yourself.  It  has  been  hard 
at  times  to  resist  the  temptation  to  tell  you 
and  at  times  I  have  come  so  near  telling  that 
perhaps  you  have  guessed  my  secret.  Well, 
the  time  has  come,  sweetheart,  and  I  have  told 
you  that  I  love  you  with  my  whole  being  and 
now  it  remains  only  for  you  to  say  that  you 
reciprocate  my  affection  to  make  me  supremely 
happy.  Darling,  do  you  love  me?  Will  you 
take  me  for  better  or  for  worse,  until  death 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     243 

parts  us  ?     By  so  doing  you  will  fully  realize  for 
me  my  long-cherished  ideal. 

Now  you  know  what  my  larger  romance  is 
and  how  intimately  you  are  associated  with  it. 
Does  it  make  your  cheeks  burn  a  little  as  you 
recall  the  persistence  with  which  you  wanted  to 
know  the  end?  Look  into  the  mirror  and  be- 
hold what  a  pretty  picture  of  confusion  I  have 
created  in  my  imagination.  Do  you  wonder  that 
I  too,  was  anxious  to  know  the  end?  The  tables 
are  turned,  now  I  am  the  petitioner  asking: 
"How  does  the  story  end?"  You  are  the  end 
of  my  larger  romance,  dearie,  and  that  means 
a  happy  ending,  for  you  are  always  happy. 
Make  me  always  happy  too. 

The  time  has  come  of  which  I  prophesied  to 
you,  when  you  would  find  an  opportunity  to  be 
useful  to  somebody  who  needs  your  aid  to  help 
him  accomplish  something  worth  while  in  the 
world.  I  am  that  person,  dear,  I  need  you  to 
become  my  other,  my  better  self.  Join  forces 
with  me.  Let  us  help  each  other  to  perform 
some  service  for  mankind  that  neither  of  us 
could  accomplish  alone.  It  would  be  an  es- 
teemed privilege  to  help  you  carry  out  your 
plans  and  aspirations  as  well  as  a  great  joy  to 
have  your  love,  sympathy  and  aid  in  attaining 
to  my  ambition.  It  is  lonely  working  by  one's 
self,  even  when  he  is  doing  good;  companion- 


244  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

ship  not  only  banishes  the  loneliness,  but  it  more 
than  doubles  the  good  accomplished.  Such  a 
helpful  co-partnership  is  the  one  I  wish  to  form 
with  you,  one  that  shall  be  full  of  happiness 
for  ourselves  and  helpfulness  for  others.  Will 
you  be  my  partner  in  such  an  enterprise  ? 

I  have  been  requested  to  prolong  my  sojourn 
here  for  several  weeks,  but  I  have  not  decided 
so  to  do,  indeed,  I  have  decided  not  to  do  so  if 
my  partner  requires  my  presence  in  Chicago. 
Does  she  ?  I  have  promised  to  give  my  decision 
upon  receipt  of  your  answer  to  this  letter.  If 
you  tell  me  that  I  may  come  and  claim  you  as 
my  future  bride  I  shall  come  right  away,  but  if 
you  say  me  nay,  I  shall  stay  away  from  Chicago 
a  while.  Your  answer  will  come  to  me  Saturday 
morning  and  if  you  want  me  I  shall  arrive  Sun- 
day morning.  Perhaps  you  will  meet  the  train, 
it  would  be  just  like  you  to  do  so,  for  a  morning 
drive  is  very  pleasant  with  choice  company. 
Forgive  me  for  presuming  upon  your  answer,  it 
is  my  great  desire  to  come  to  you  that  makes 
me  do  so,  dearest,  that  and  my  abiding  faith 
in  you.  Shall  I  come  ? 

I  shall  have  to  take  this  letter  down  to  the 
depot  and  put  it  into  the  mail  car,  it  is  so  late 
that  it  might  not  get  off  to-night,  otherwise.  I 
am  tempted  to  put  myself  into  a  sleeper  instead 
and  speed  away  to  my  heart's  desire,  because  I 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     245 

want  you  so  much.  But  no,  I  must  await  your 
summons,  although  the  time  seems  long  while 
waiting.  Perchance,  I  shall  find  time  to  write 
again  to-morrow. 

Now,  go  little  letter  and  tell  my  love  that  I 
love  her  fondly,  although  I  have  failed  to  write 
the  tender  thoughts  of  her  that  arise  in  my 
mind.  Tell  her  that  I  would  that  I  were  a 
poet  just  for  a  little  while,  so  that  I  might  sing 
of  my  love  for  her.  And  yet,  it  would  not 
make  my  love  one  whit  fonder  or  stronger  if  it 
were  sung  ever  so  sweetly,  so  little  letter  go 
and  tell  her  simply  that  I  love  her — she  will 
know  the  rest.  What  poet's  songs  can  compare 
with  a  maiden's  matchless  dream  of  love. 
Tell  my  darling  that  no  matter  how  ever  so 
many  pages  I  should  write  to-night,  feeling  as 
I  do,  they  would  all  say  in  effect  that  I  love 
her  in  as  many  different  ways  as  there  were 
pages. 

Good- night  and  God  keep  you  safely,  my 
darling. 

Lovingly  your, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


346  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

LOVE'S  QUERY. 
(An  Acrostic.) 

Listen  darling,  to  love's  query, 
Ere  your  shyness  shuns  the  word ; 
Only  mine  is  your  heart,  dearie, 
Love's  dearest  gift  on  man  conferred? 
Answer  not,  like  one  in  jest, 
But  whisper  frankly  love's  behest ; 
Requite  my  love  born  from  Above, 
Ope  the  gate  to  heavenly  bliss. 
Will  you  be  my  wife,  dear  love? 
Now,  seal  your  answer  with  a  kiss. 

XVII. 

OMAHA,  JULY  31,  19 — . 
Leola,  my  Darling: — 

I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  are  very  happy, 
especially  since  it  is  something  that  you  have 
heard  about  me  that  has  made  you  so.  You 
have  learned  all  about  the  report  which  was 
circulated  concerning  me  that  made  you  un- 
happy and  it  was  a  base  fabrication  started  by 
an  envious  person?  Well,  I  am  thankful  that 
it  was  no  worse,  dearie,  for  it  might  have  robbed 
me  of  you  had  you  not  been  a  sensible,  loyal 
little  lady.  I  suppose  that  I  should  feel  flat- 
tered by  such  attentions  from  jealous  persons 
for  I  once  read  that  when  we  are  successful  we 


A    FRIEND    LOST   AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     247 

should  look  out  for  the  assaults  of  envy,  for 
stones  and  sticks  are  only  thrown  at  fruit  bear- 
ing trees.  At  any  rate,  I  am  glad  that  it  fur- 
nished an  opportunity  for  you  to  find  out  how 
much  you  care  about  what  people  think  and 
say  of  me.  Frequently  it  requires  some  such 
experience  to  define  our  feelings. 

This  evening  just  before  dinner  I  had  an 
experience  that  made  me  very  happy,  or  per- 
haps I  should  say  experiment.  I  know  the  hour 
that  you  would  be  writing  to  me  and  I  made  an 
attempt  to  determine  what  your  answer  is,  and 
the  result  of  the  experiment  was  most  gratify- 
ing. I  stretched  out  on  the  couch  comfortably, 
closed  my  eyes,  relaxed  myself  body  and  mind 
and  awaited  results.  Before  long  I  had  a  vis- 
ion of  you,  sitting  in  your  room  writing.  Evi- 
dently, you  had  just  finished  the  letter,  for 
almost  immediately  you  put  it  in  an  envelope 
which  you  addressed  and  sealed.  I  judged  that 
your  answer  is  favorable,  for  you  were  appar- 
rently  happy,  which  would  not  have  been  the 
case  if  you  had  been  obliged  to  make  me  un- 
happy. When  you  had  stamped  the  letter  you 
arose  and  went  to  the  mirror  and  shook  a  re- 
proving finger  at  the  face  which  looked  out 
and  the  face  made  a  wioue  at  you.  In  order 
that  you  may  not  be  able  to  explain  my  vision 
as  a  fanciful  creation  of  my  mind  I  shall  add  a 


248  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

few  further  details.  You  wore  a  dress  which  I 
had  never  seen  before  made  of  some  fluffy  blue 
stuff  and  trimmed  with  lace.  You  wore  a  red 
rose  in  your  hair  and  a  broach  with  an  apple- 
green  stone  in  it  at  your  throat.  I  am  sure 
that  I  should  have  been  able  to  read  your  letter 
if  it  had  not  been  finished,  for  I  readily  read  my 
name  and  address  on  the  envelope.  How  is 
that  for  an  example  of  clairvoyance? 

Ever  since  my  vision  I  have  been  thinking 
of  what  it  will  mean  to  have  such  a  dainty  dar- 
ling for  a  wife.  My  bachelor  days  and  bachelor 
quarters  will  be  things  of  the  past,  for  I  shall 
have  better  days  and  a  home.  Just  think 
of  it.  A  home  with  you,  love,  for  its  mistress, 
will  not  that  be  heavenly?  I  have  dreamed  of 
a  time  when  it  would  be  my  lot,  but  have  never 
dared  to  hope  it  until  now.  I  have  lived  alone 
so  long  that  I  feared  that  it  had  become  a  settled 
habit,  but  now  the  star  of  hope  has  arisen  to 
lead  the  way  to  you,  and  companionship,  and 
home  without  which,  life  to  me  would  be  an 
empty  void.  I  dare  not  tell  you  of  the  scenes 
of  domestic  felicity  that  my  fertile  imagination 
has  created  lest  you  should  think  me  foolish  in 
my  fondness  for  you,  perchance  I  may  whisper 
them  softly  into  your  ear  when  I  come  to  you. 
It  seems  marvellous  to  me  when  I  think  that 
there  is  a  winsome  woman  waiting  to  make  a 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     249 

home  with  me  and  that  you,  my  love,  are  the 
woman. 

I  have  heard  that  a  bachelor  who  lives  much 
alone  does  not  make  a  good  husband,  for  the 
reason  that  he  becomes  too  set  in  his  bachelor 
habits  to  adjust  himself  harmoniously  to  the 
habits  of  another.  This  may  be  true  of  some 
individuals  in  whom  selfishness  is  the  chief  char- 
acteristic, but  surely  most  of  us  would  gladly 
exchange  our  lonely  bachelor  habits  for  those 
of  a  happy  home  life.  Let  him  who  prefers 
his  bachelor  quarters  and  bachelor  life  have 
them;  as  for  me,  I  prefer  a  home  and  the  con- 
genial companionship  of  a  loving  wife.  And  I 
am  certain  that  I  shall  not  find  it  difficult  or 
irksome  to  give  up  or  change  any  or  all  of  my 
bachelor  habits  and  adjust  myself  harmoniously 
to  the  habits  and  happiness  of  another,  provided 
only  that  the  other  is  you,  sweetheart. 

Love  makes  it  easy  for  us  to  adapt  ourselves 
to  the  happiness  of  others,  but  without  affection 
harmony  is  well  nigh  impossible.  Love  is  un- 
selfish and  helpful,  striving  continually  to  make 
its  object  happy.  It  is  the  one  thing  absolutely 
essential  to  an  harmonious  home.  Because  I 
know  this  I  am  sure  that  we  shall  be  supremely 
happy  together.  Our  love  for  each  other  will 
make  us  considerate  and  our  aims  will  be  to 
make  each  other  happy.  Doubtless,  it  will 


250  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

sometimes  require  a  strong  effort  of  self-control ; 
but  love  is  equal  to  it  and  more  besides.  There- 
fore, let  us  crown  Love  as  the  divinity  of  our 
home,  darling,  so  that  we  may  be  sure  of  per- 
petual happiness. 

I  know  nothing  better  for  me  than  to  have 
you  for  my  wife,  and  if  I  had  the  opportunity 
to  choose  I  would  choose  you  in  preference  to 
anything  else  in  the  world.  This  is  the  result 
of  my  thoughts  of  what  it  will  mean  to  me  to 
have  you  for  a  helpmate.  A  good  woman  is 
beyond  price  and  the  man  who  has  one  as  a 
wife  is  rich,  no  matter  how  little  he  has  of  what 
the  world  calls  wealth.  The  loving  companion- 
ship of  such  a  woman  means  happiness,  home, 
Heaven. 

Most  devoutly  do  I  echo  your  words  "May 
the  Good  Spirit  smile  approval  upon  all  that  we 
do."  At  times  the  light  of  His  smile  has  been 
lost  to  me  and  all  has  seemed  dark  around  and 
overhead,  but  in  the  darkest  hour  a  ray  of  light 
has  come  in  the  form  of  a  friend.  It  was  so  when 
you  came  to  me  and  in  your  kindliness  and  help- 
fulness I  have  seen  the  light  of  His  face  and  I 
have  hoped,  yes,  hoped  and  prayed  that  the 
light  so  beautiful  to  me,  might  not  be  taken 
away.  The  darkness  of  midnight  cannot  be 
compared  with  the  darkness  of  despair  that 
comes  to  one  whose  fondest  hopes  have  been 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     251 

shattered.  I  know  not  what  I  should  do  if  I 
should  lose  you  now,  dearest,  for  I  would  be  left 
in  utter  darkness.  However,  it  is  vain  to  spec- 
ulate on  the  improbable ;  it  is  much  better  to  do 
the  best  we  know  how,  expecting  the  Divine 
benediction  the  while.  Certainly,  if  we  do 
well,  the  Good  Spirit  will  not  withhold  His 
smiling  approval. 

I  delight  to  chat  with  my  little  lady  love 
even  on  paper,  but  this  letter  like  a  long,  long 
chat  must  come  to  an  end.  It  will  reach  you  in 
the  morning  at  about  the  same  hour  that  your 
letter  will  come  to  me,  and  if  your  answer  is 
what  I  have  anticipated  it  to  be  I  shall  be  with 
you  on  the  following  morning.  After  posting 
this  letter  I  shall  do  what  I  used  to  do  when  a 
boy  and  wanted  the  time  to  pass  quickly,  that 
is,  go  to  bed  and  to  sleep  early  so  that  it  will 
be  to-morrow  sooner. 

Dearie,  come  to  me  in  my  dreams  and  answer 
the  little  poem  sent  in  my  last  letter,  if  you 
would  make  me  the  happiest  of  men.  Some- 
day you  will  know  what  I  am  unable  to  write 
out  in  weak  words,  namely,  how  dear  you  are 
to  one  who  loves  you  with  his  whole  soul. 
Your  lover, 

VAL  DE  WALD. 


252  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

I  HAVE — HAVE  YOU? 

In  the  days  when  the  sunshine  was  pure  gold, 
And  the  o'erarching  sky  was  tender  blue, 

I  have  thought  that  my  joy  was  joy  untold, 
For  my  beloved  was  with  me — have  you? 

In  other  days  when  the  brightness  had  fled 
And  the  sky  had  taken  a  somber  hue, 

I  have  thought  that  all  happiness  was  dead, 
And  all  of  my  fondest  hopes  vain — have  you? 

What  magic  caused  the  great  and  sudden  change, 
Why  took  the  heavens  such  a  leaden  hue? 
Dear,   I  have  thought  that  it  was  nothing 

strange, 
For  my  beloved  was  away — have  you? 

When  the  gloom  has  fallen  dark  around  about, 
And  I  have  needed  a  friend  kind  and  true, 

Then  I  have  prayed,  yea,  prayed  with  faith  de- 
vout, 
For  my  beloved,  my  dear  one — have  you? 

The  Divine  Spirit  heareth  when  we  pray 
Bestowing  kindly  blessings  not  a  few, 

And  I  have  wondered  oft  and  many  a  day 
If  some  day  he  will  answer  me — have  you? 

Sometimes  I  have  had  the  heartache,  dear   one 
There  has  been  so  much  of  life  to  rue; 
And  I  have  longed,  so  longed,  to  be  near  one 
Whose  love  and  sympathy  are  mine — have  you? 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     253 

Is  there  some  one  whom  you  love,  my  dearie, 
Who  would  give  all  the  world  to  know  you  do  ? 

I  have  thought  that  his  life  now  quite  dreary 
Would  be  happy  if  you  told  him — have  you  ? 

So,  my  darling,  I  have  come  a  pleading 
Bringing  and  singing  a  love  strong  and  true ; 

It  was  born  in  the  days  of  our  reading, 

And,  dear,  I  have  loved  ever  since — have  you? 

XVIII. 

OMAHA,  AUGUST  i,  19 — . 
Leola,  my  Beloved: — 

You  are  the  dearest  girlie  in  all  the  world 
and  you  have  made  me  the  happiest  man  by 
your  characteristic  answer.  Because  you  love 
me  there  could  be  but  one  answer,  so  you  want 
me  to  come  right  away  to  claim  my  own?  Yes, 
little  wine,  that  is  to  be,  I  am  coming  to  fold 
you  closely  in  my  arms  and  seal  our  be- 
trothal with  a  hundred  kisses  and  whisper  a 
thousand  sweet  words  into  your  ear  that  I  can- 
not write.  I  am  coming  to  claim  and  to  pro- 
claim you  my  beloved  bride  as  soon  as  you  will 
consent  to  grace  my  home  with  your  charming 
presence.  I  am  coming  to  hear  from  your  lips 
what  you  have  written — that  you  love  me — in 
tenderer  terms  as  you  nestle  your  little  head 
upon  my  shoulder.  I  am  coming  to  begin  life 


254  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

anew  with  you,  my  own  dear  love.  I  am  coming, 
I  am  coming  to  you,  my  beloved,  I  am  coming 
right  away. 

The  roses  were  beautiful  and  you  liked  them, 
my  red,  red  roses,  I  am  glad —  You  were  a  dear 
to  wear  one  of  them  in  your  hair,  it  was  that 
one  that  I  saw  last  night  in  my  clairvoyant 
vision.  You  shall  have  more  deep  red  roses  to 
tell  you  of  the  depth  of  my  love  for  you.  Al- 
ways red,  red  roses,  except  only  once  when  they 
shall  be  bride's  roses  to  celebrate  the  occasion 
when  you  become  my  beautiful  bride.  The 
rose  is  also  my  favorite  flower — the  American 
Beauty — and  I  am  sure  it  is  most  becoming  to 
your  style  and  complexion,  so  rich  and  rosy.  It 
was  thoughtful  of  you,  sweetheart  to  send  me 
a  petal  of  the  rose  you  wore  in  your  hair,  it  was 
as  near  as  possible  to  sending  a  real  kiss  in  a 
letter.  I  did  a  very  unromantic  thing  with  the 
petal,  but  I  shall  let  you  guess  what  it  was. 

Yes,  sweetheart,  it  is  splendid  to  have  some- 
one to  live  for,  as  it  makes  life  fuller  and  more 
satisfactory.  The  narrowness  and  littleness  of 
a  selfish  life  is  done  away  with  and  we  enter  into 
the  happiness  of  living  for  our  loved  ones.  Per- 
fect happiness  is  only  attained  through  our 
efforts  to  make  others  happy.  It  ever  escapes 
us  when  we  seek  it  for  itself,  but  it  is  reflected 
into  our  own  souls  when  we  seek  to  give  it  to 


A    FRIEND    LOST    AND    A    LOVER    FOUND.     255 

others.  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  re- 
ceive happiness.  Let  us  find  our  sweetest  com- 
fort, dear  one,  in  giving  ourselves  to  each  other, 
By  so  doing  we  shall  find  how  delightful  it  is  to 
have  some  one  to  live  for. 

I  hope  for  the  fulfillment  of  your  promise  in 
the  early  autumn,  for  I  do  not  believe  in  long 
betrothals.  Long  probations  are  unnecessary 
with  those  who  know  their  own  minds  and 
hearts.  Why  put  off  the  fulfillment  of  our 
hopes?  Let  .not  custom  hinder  our  entrance 
into  our  paradise.  I  am  anxious  to  begin  my 
new  life,  but  you,  my  beloved,  shall  name  the 
day. 

I  am  writing  to  you,  Leola,  because  my  heart 
is  full  to  overflowing,  however,  I  may  reach  my 
beloved  before  my  letter,  although  I  am  sending 
it  this  morning  with  a  special  delivery  stamp 
upon  it,  while  I  am  coming  to  you  to-night. 
Yes,  I  am  coming  to  you  to-night  and  I  hope 
it  will  be  a  very  long  time  before  we  shall  be 
separated,  so  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  resort 
to  letters  again,  for  they  are  at  best  unsatis- 
factory. They  are  too  often  made  up  of  empty 
words  and  phrases,  lacking  the  expressions  and 
tones  which  go  with  spoken  language.  So,  go 
little  letter  and  if  you  find  her  first,  tell  my 
beloved  that  I  am  coming  to  her  to  claim  my 
own  sweet  bride. 


256  THE    FULFILLING    OF    THE    LAW. 

Now,  dear  one,  farewell  for  a  little  while  only 
for  I  shall  soon  be  with  you  to  tell  you  by  word 
of  mouth  that  I  am  yours. 

Fondly  and  forever, 
VAL  DE  WALD. 

THE  BRIDEGROOM'S  TOAST. 

I  propose  a  toast  to  my  lady  fair, 

Who  is  fairer  than  the  summer  moon ; 
Yes,  she's  radiant  with  a  beauty  rare, 

And  sweeter  than  the  flowery  breath  of  June. 
Modesty  envelops  her  like  a  dress, 

Lending  dignity  to  her  motion  light, 
Making  a  charming  grace  and  comeliness, 

Like  the  color  that  makes  a  landscape 

bright, 
Glistens  in  the  luster  of  her  dark  hair 

Altering  it,  as  moonlight  in  the  night 
Softens  bold  shadows  into  fancies  rare, 

Loveliness,  like  that  mirrored  in  a  well 
Flashes  from  her  deep  brown  eyes,  and  the  goal 

Of  her  pure  life  and  character  doth  tell, 
Most  plainly,  that  she  is  a  lovely  soul ; 

The  sacred  shrine  wherein  pure  love  doth 

dwell. 
Now  honor  her  who  is  my  joy  and  pride, 

Whose  presence  is  perpetual  sunshine; 
Friends,  toast  with  me  the  health  of  my  sweet 
bride, 

The  dearest  of  women,  almost  divine. 


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